


Sammy, close your eyes

by Tennovakmoose



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abusive John Winchester, Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Brothers, Cutting, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hey Jude, Hurt/Comfort, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Mild Language, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Platonic Cuddling, Prostitution, Suicide Attempt, Triggers, Underage Prostitution, destiel sorta, possible triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-14
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-08-15 02:27:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 12
Words: 33,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8038606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tennovakmoose/pseuds/Tennovakmoose
Summary: When Mary Winchester dies in a car accident, her young sons Sam and Dean are left in the care of their unstable and unreliable father who takes to drinking to hide his pain. This is their story and what all they've faced living the life that they were given.





	1. 1987-John's A+ Parenting

It was late. Sammy was already asleep, but eight-year-old Dean couldn’t seem to do the same. Tomorrow was the anniversary of their mom, Mary’s, fatal car crash four years ago and, like always, their dad John was at a bar. Sitting in the chair in Sam’s bedroom, his favorite place in the house after almost losing his baby brother in the same crash that took his mom, Dean couldn’t help but think back to earlier that night trying to get Sam ready for bed.

* * *

“Nu-uh!” Sam stomped his sock-clad foot and firmly folded his arms across his tiny chest, refusing to let Dean put on his pajama top.

“C’mon, Sammy please? Look it’s your favorite one—Batman!” Dean begged his grumpy little brother. Sam just shook his head again. “I’ll let you have a cookie if you put your shirt on.” Dean tried one more time. The promise of sweets is what made the four-year-old give in and slowly raise his arms above his head. “Thanks. C’mon let’s go get that cookie. And don’t you dare tell Dad.” He took Sam’s hand in his and lead him to the kitchen where they sat to eat their snack together.

“De?” Sam asked around a chunk of cookie in his mouth, sending a shower of crumbs everywhere. “Can Daddy tuck me in tonight instead of you?”

Dean’s face falls at the request but only briefly. “Aw, what? Don’t you like me anymore Sammy?” Dean joked before continuing without missing a beat. “Do you think I’d be giving you sugar right now if Dad was home?”

“Where is he anyway?” Sam questions, whipping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“I dunno.” But Dean did know. Well, not exactly but enough. Dad was at the place only grown-ups can go. He won’t be back until long after Sam was asleep and he’ll smell funny and stumble over his words and feet. Dean will pretend to sleep and wake up before either other Winchester. He’ll take a glass of orange juice and set it on his Dad’s night stand, so he won’t be as sick in the morning. Then he’ll go and watch over Sam until he wakes up. “C’mon kiddo. Time for bed.” This time Sam doesn’t argue when Dean leads him up the stairs to his room.

* * *

Snapping back to now, Dean looks at the clock on the wall above Sam’s race car bed—the same one Dean used to sleep in until Sam outgrew his crib—and decides he has time for a short walk before John got home. He stood and pulled the cover a little higher on Sam’s sleeping form. “I’ll be right back Sammy. Promise,” he whispered before going to get his jacket out of his own room. Just a quick walk around the block, he thought. Dad won’t be back for hours anyways and I locked the door so Sam’s perfectly safe.  
He was wrong. When Dean rounded the last corner and his house came into sight, so did John’s 1967 black Chevy Impala. Dean’s heart dropped and he started praying that John was already too stumble-ly to even check on him before going to bed like he normally does. Maybe Dean would be lucky and John didn’t even know he was gone. He quickened his steps at the glimmer of hope, but that flickered out as soon as he got close enough to see in the window. Sam was sitting in the chair closest to the door, rubbing a tiny fist against a tear stained cheek while dad paced red in the face just in front of him.

Grabbing the key from his pocket, Dean opened the door with the intent of putting himself between John and Sam as fast as possible, but his haste, as it turned out, was for naught. “Dean!” John’s hand was around the back of his neck before the door had even shut completely.

“H-hi Dad,” he stammered.

“Where the hell did you go? No, wait. I’d rather know why the hell you thought it’d be okay to leave your baby brother alone in the middle of the goddamned night!” John was shouting in Dean’s face, breath heavy with that smell that made Dean’s stomach turn. Sam’s quite crying had grown to loud hiccoughing sobs and ever fiber in Dean’s being wanted nothing more than to make sure he was okay and calm him down like he always has before but his dad’s grip on his neck was too tight to even look in Sam’s direction.

“I’m sorry, Dad! I-I just left a few minutes ago. I wasn’t gone long, I swear! I locked the door. I-I thought he’d be okay since he was asleep.” Sometimes Dean felt a lot older than eight, taking care of his brother the same way his parents used to take care of him before his mom died, but right now with his dad towering over him and a hand strong enough to bruise on his neck, Dean felt almost younger than Sam.

“You ‘thought’ he’d be okay? That’s funny because it seems to me you weren’t thinking at all!” John let go of Dean with a shove that knocked him back into the wall. “Someone could have broken in and hurt him; killed him maybe. Is that what you want, Dean? Huh boy? You want your brother dead?” John grabbed Dean by the throat to keep him pinned to the wall, lifting up just enough that his toes were still on the ground.

“N-no sir.” Dean choked on what air he managed to get while attempting to shrink in on himself, true fear gripping his heart, mimicking his father’s hand. John growled and threw Dean on the floor face first. Sam howled for his brother to make it stop, but Dean was powerless, only reminded that Sam did not need to see this side of their father that Dean was all too familiar with by this point. “Close your eyes,” he spoke up to his brother.

“De.”

“Sammy, close your eyes!” Dean begged, waiting for him to do it before rolling over to defend himself. With a whimper, Sam flipped over and buried his face in the cushion of the arm chair with his hands clamped over his ears and his knees curled up under his belly.

Even with his ears covered, Sam could still hear the repetitive thumping of John’s fists connecting with Dean’s skin. Sam whimpered with every blow, even though Dean didn’t make a sound. What could have been hours but was probably only minutes later, the thumping stopped and heavy, booted feet stomped out of the room. Still, Sam didn’t move.

Dean stood up and wiped as much blood off his face as he could. Walking over to the chair Sam was still hiding in, he plastered a smile on his split and swollen lip. Carefully, he touched Sam’s back and could feel the tremors passing through his body. “Hey, Sammy it’s okay. You need to calm down for me okay? Dad went to bed and its time we do the same. Its late, come on.” His voice was even—he wouldn’t cry until Sam was safely asleep and wouldn’t know. He softly ran his hand up and down Sam’s spine like Mary used to do for him.

Finally, Sam sat up and looked at his brother’s face. He had a bloody nose and swollen eye to go with his lip. The smile there looked out of place with the smears of blood, even to Sam’s inexperience, but he smiled back anyways. If Dean could be strong, so could he.

“There’s my boy.” Dean wiped the tears out of Sam’s eyes then picked him up to tuck him in for the second time tonight. “I’m sorry I left, Sammy. I shoulda been here when you woke up. Did you have a bad dream?” Dean talked to him as he carried him upstairs with only a slight limp.

“No.” Sam sniffled into Dean’s shoulder. “Daddy wanted to know where you were so he waked me up.” At hearing this, Dean’s grip tightened and he silently vowed to never leave his brother alone again as Sam yawned and snuggled deeper into his brother’s arms.

"Did--did he hurt you, Sammy?" Dean asked quietly, not sure he wanted to hear the answer, but he had to know. Instead of answering, Sam shuck his head no and yawned again. Dean sighed softly, relived slightly.

Dean stayed in Sam’s room that night, arms wrapped protectively around Sam whispering promises into his floppy brown hair. “I’ll never leave you again. Dad’ll never hurt you like that. I’ll protect you Sammy. Big brother’s gotcha.” Soon though, his words took on a more tuneful essence as he began humming “Hey Jude” right before allowing himself to drift off to Sam’s even breathing.


	2. 1991-In Which Sam Asks Too Many Questions

“Alright boy’s. I’m going to your Uncle Bobby’s for the weekend. You know the drill—stay inside, lock the doors— “

“’Don’t answer the phone unless it rings once first, and watch out for Sammy.’ Yeah Dad I know. It’s just like last weekend and that one before that and the one before that.” John squints his eyes at Dean for interrupting him, but doesn’t say anything. He kisses Sam on the forehead, slaps Dean on the shoulder, and walks out to the car he’d already packed for the trip. Dean followed him to the door and locked it from the inside.

Sam sat at the small kitchen table with a huff Dean pretended not to hear to start his homework. Neither of them liked this crappy apartment they’ve been living in for the past month since John had to sell the old house for a little extra money for “food”, none of which either boy had ever seen, except for the fifteen dollars stuck in Dean’s had to feed them both the whole weekend.

Dean threw his back pack in the chair across from Sam and went to look in the practically empty cabinets for something edible enough for at least one of them to call dinner. Disappointed, even from low standards to start with, Dean tossed a look over his shoulder at Sam as he grabbed the box of luck charms praying there would be enough to share and that there was non-spoiled milk. Thankfully there was both, by some miracle.

Dean grabbed spoons and sat down with Sam to eat. Sam didn’t say anything, just continued to work but taking bites between each simple addition problem he solved. Kid was smart, always had been, and Dean knew it wouldn’t take him long to finish but was still surprised when Sam shut the book and pushed it away seconds later.

“Dean?” Sam looked at his brother with a face somewhere between confusion and kicked-puppy. Dean’s smart too, and he recently learned that that particular look on that particular little brother face meant Dean was about to be asked a question he didn’t want to answer. “The other kids at school today were talking about their moms and dads and looked at me funny when I said I only had a dad. Someone said that’s not normal.” This was going to be worse than Dean thought. “Why don’t we have a mom like everyone else?”

Dean couldn’t meet his brothers innocent gaze anymore so he stood to take his bowl to the sink instead and answered with his back turned. “Sam, I know I’ve told you this before. There was a car accident when you were a baby. We used to have a mom, but she’s dead now.” Dean flinched slightly at the harshness of his own words. Normally that would be enough to satisfy Sam but apparently not today.

“Yeah but there was another boy, Ben. He said his mom died too, but then his dad got married and now he has a new mom. I want a new mom, De.”

The words were like a slap in the face for Dean who remembered and loved their mom more than Sam could ever understand. There’s not a day that goes by when Dean doesn’t think about and miss her. He spun around and slammed his hands on the table with enough force to make Sam jump. “Don’t you ever say that. No one can replace Mom. Dad knows that and he won’t even think something like that. Never talk about her like that again Sam! She was perfect. Don’t say that again.” Sam sat in stunned silence at Dean’s outburst for long minutes after Dean had slammed the door for their shared bedroom.

Dean hadn’t meant to snap at Sam like that, honest. It’s just… he had thought the same thing for a while and had made the mistake of asking John about it. Dean learned very quickly that was not something to talk to Dad about. Ever. As he sat with his face in his hands on the edge of his bed, he thought about going to apologize to Sam but pushed the thought aside because it was better he learns this lesson from Dean than Dad.

After a while, Sam finished his homework and went to find Dean. He still had more questions—though he’d leave out the ones about Mom. “Dean?” he asked as he slowly opened the door and stuck his head in. He was greeted by soft snores where Dean had fallen asleep on his back, light tear stains on his freckled cheeks. Sam sighed and chucked his shoes over next to his bed. Even though Sam was eight now and should have outgrown this long ago, he still like to share a bed with Dean for the sense of safety that came with being close to his big brother. He figured since Dean was dead to the world and Dad was at Uncle Bobby’s, he could get away with a short nap curled under Dean’s arm. Slowly, he crawled up the bed, making sure not to wake Dean, and settled on top of the covers on his side. He pulled his knees up to a comfortable position and scooted closer to the older boy. Reaching out, Sam gently grabbed at the hem of Dean’s rock t-shirt and looked up at his peaceful face. Counting the freckles there, he slowly fell asleep.

* * *

A couple hours later, Dean woke up to find Sam pressed tight against his side. For a moment, he just laid there enjoying Sam’s warmth before his sleep haze vanished entirely. Soon though, he had to get up to use the bathroom, but when he tried, he discovered Sam was clinging to his shirt like it was his life line. Dean grunted and pulled Sam’s hands away which made him frown in his sleep and curl into a tighter ball.

Minutes later, Sam woke up feeling much colder without Dean’s body heat keeping him warm. He sat up and looked around the room thinking maybe it was later than he thought and Dean had just moved over to the other bed but he wasn’t there so Sam got up to find him. When he stepped into the hall, he heard the shower running and made his way to the small living room, opting for cartoons like every other Friday night at the Winchester house. Batman—Sam’s favorite—was on.

Lost in the show, Sam didn’t hear the shower shut off and jumped when Dean plopped down on the small couch beside him.

“Watcha watchin’ Sammy?” Dean asked as though he had no idea who the guy in the black mask and cape might be. Sam shot him a quick glare out of the corner of his eye before returning to the program. “Gosh fine be like that,” Dean grunted but then he too was watching the show, laughing along with his little brother, all earlier uneasiness forgotten.

When Sam’s stomach growled the first time, the both ignored it. The second time though, Sam grew impatient and began to whine. “Dean I’m hungry! Can we order pizza?”

“Sam we already ate dinner.”

“Cereal after school doesn’t count as dinner.”

“It does when you don’t have anything else.”

“We can order pizza; we’d have something else then.”

“With what money?” when he saw Sam was about to protest again, he rushed on. “What Dad gave me is not enough to buy pizza for the rest of the weekend. Tomorrow I’ll go get like spaghetti or something. There’s enough cereal left for one more bowl if you want it though.”

Sam slumped back against the couch and crossed his arms in an exaggerated pout for a moment. Dean shrugged and leaned back too. Normally, Sam’s puppy-dog face was enough to convince Dean to murder for the kid, but in this particular situation, Dean knew he was going to have to follow through. But Sam is stubborn. And he knew exactly what buttons to push to get his way. “Just wanna be normal like everyone else.” He pouts just loud enough for Dean to hear. His brown hair flopped down against his forehead and hazel eyes swam with only half-fake tears. “The other kids get to eat whatever they want and can even go out to eat sometimes. Don’t wanna eat cereal for dinner because we can’t afford pizza. ‘s not fair.” He punctuated his words with well-timed sniffles and a fist rubbing at his red nose.

Dean’s heart broke for him. He knew exactly what Sam was talking about. Of all the boys in his grade, Dean was the only one who couldn’t hang out with his friends because he had to save money to make sure his kid brother had everything he needed for school the next week. Nobody else had to deal with a drunk father every other night, just Dean. So he gave in. “Fine. Whatever okay? Stop crying already. We’ll get the damn pizza. But it has to last Sam. No eating it all tonight. Promise?”

Instantly, Sam’s tears were gone—replaced by a smile that lit up the room and dimples that had no right to make Dean grin in return like they did. Sam nodded his agreement and lunged across the couch to hug Dean who just rolled his eyes and patted his back.

* * *

A while later, after part of the pizza had been eaten and part of it put away for tomorrow, Sam and Dean were once again sat on the couch watching cartoons. At some point during the program, Sam fell asleep with his head on Dean’s shoulder. When the clock struck ten and the cartoons changed to news, Dean nudged Sam to wake him up and turned off the television. “Bedtime, dude. C’mon.”

Sam made an unhappy noise without opening his eyes. “ ‘m comfy. Don’t wanna.”

“God, you weren’t this whiny when you were three. Fine sleep on the couch if you wanna. I’m going to bed,” Dean said with a light shrug, turning to go.

“Can we at least share tonight? ‘s cold.” Sam was following Dean down the short hall with his eyes half open.

“No,” came Dean’s immediate response. “And you shouldn’t have earlier. Dad said you’re too big for that now; that’s why he got two beds. Time to grow up, Sammy.”

“But Dad’s not here! And I read in your diary where you right to mom you wish I didn’t have to grow up so I know you don’t like Dad’s new rule either. Please De? Just tonight?” Dean blushed deeply at Sam’s words. Of the few things Dean has, his journal (NOT a diary, okay? Only girls kept diaries) is the one thing he thought no one else knew about, but he was too tired to fight Sam about it tonight.

Keeping his back turned on Sam, “Stay outta my stuff. And the answers still no so don’t even bother with puppy eyes.” His voice was flat as he crawled under the covers. Sam stood in place between the beds for a minute before deciding Dean really wasn’t going to change his mind and climbing into his own bed.

After a minute, “Dean?” He hummed in response. “What does Dad do? Like for a job?”

Dean rolled over to face his brother. “He’s a mechanic. Fixes cars and junk.”

“Do you wanna be like him when you grow up?”

“I dunno. I guess? Never really thought about it.” Dean answers in reference to occupation. As he gently pressed a fingertip into a dark bruise on his ribs, he thought never like his personality though. Never gonna hurt someone—no matter how “bad” they are.

Sam’s quiet a minute. “I don’t wanna be like him. I don’t like that he hits you.” Another pause. “Dean, do you love him?” His voice is softer when he asks this.

Dean pushes himself up on one elbow to look at his brother, eyebrows scrunched together. “Of course I do. He’s our dad, I have to. You do too, don’t you Sam?”

Sam rolled to his back and looked up at the ceiling. “I don’t know. I want to because you do, but I don’t know.” Dean huffs and falls back to the bad rolling away from Sam.

“Go to sleep Sam. Before you say something else you don’t mean.”

“I don’t think he loves us very much.”

“See? That’s what I meant. Sleep, Sam. Now.” Dean frustration was beginning to seep into his voice, try as he might to keep it out.

“I’m serious Dean. If he did, he wouldn’t leave us all the time.”

“I’m serious, too, Sam. Goodnight.” A few minutes pass and it’s clear that conversation is over.

“Dean, I can’t sleep.”

“Try,” came the dry response.

“I am!”

“No, if you were trying, you’d be laying still. Don’t. I can hear you tossing and turning,” Dean stopped Sam mid-protest again. “Lay still. Close your eyes. Sleep will come.”

A few minutes of silence then “Dean— “

“Sammy. Close. Your. Eyes.”

“I was just gonna say goodnight. Jerk”

Dean sighed. “Night, bitch.”


	3. 1993-Sam Makes a Friend

“Dean! Dean!” Sam ran out the front door of the elementary school to meet his brother with a huge grin on his face. Dean always picked up Sam on his way home from the middle school down the road so they could walk the rest of the way together. Sam’s slightly winded when he makes it down the stairs and over to where Dean was waiting. “You’re never gonna believe what happened today!”

Dean raised his eyebrows at the shorter boy and began walking towards Bobby’s house—home for almost a year now. “well tell me anyways so I know just how big of a dork my baby brother really is.”

Not even teasing from Dean was going to kill Sam’s good mood. Not today. “I made a new friend!”

Dean stopped walking and doubled over with laughter. Holding his middle with one arm and wiping invisible tears from his eyes with his other hand, he straightens and drops his hand from his face to Sam’s shoulder. “You were right. I don’t believe you.” Another wave of laughter rocked through his body. “Sell your soul or something, kiddo? I mean how else would you, of all people, make a friend?” Dean’s laughing hard at his own joke again.

Sam’s cheeks turn red with embarrassment when people stop to look at them like they were a couple of freaks. “Deeaaan! C’mon,” Sam tugs at Dean’s arm to get him to continue walking. “Sucha jerk.”

“Okay, okay. Sorry,” Dean struggles to get himself under control taking a deep breath and following his brother. “So tell me about the poor kid you tricked into liking you.”

Sam looked at Dean to see if he was done mocking him yet and decided that his probably wasn’t but it didn’t really matter. “His name’s Gabriel Shurley. He and his older brother Castiel live with their dad because his mom died too.” Sam paused to gage Dean’s reaction to this: a considering nod that told Sam it was okay to keep talking. “He’s really funny and likes candy a lot. Like that’s-all-he-brought-for-lunch-a lot. He has blond hair like you, but its long like mine. And he’s kinda short— “

Dean interrupted him with a snort. “Wow, that coming from you? Kid must be a freakin’ elf!”

“Shut up, Dean.” Sam was back to smiling, thinking about Gabriel. “He invited me over to his house tonight to play games and watch a new movie he just got. Can I go?” He looked at Dean hopefully.

“What are you asking me for? Dad said I have to work tonight and Bobby might need your help here,” Dean said as they stepped into the junk yard that was Bobby’s drive way.

“Just for a few hours—you could drop me off on your way and pick me up after,” Sam tried to reason.

“Talk to Bobby and Dad. If they say yes, then yes. I’ll take you.” As an afterthought, “Wait, does this kid live anywhere close to being between here and work?”

“That, um, depends on where you’re working tonight.”

“Well I planned on going to Irene’s up on high street.”

“Ew, Dean. Isn’t that the one where the guy threw up on you once?” Sam scrunched his nose at the vivid memory.

“Yeah but that just means they got stronger stuff which means people bet—and lose—more. Plus, they have darts which I’m better at.”

“Yeah, okay. That actually works great anyways. Gabe lives in a house at that one place. Garden-Something? I know it’s before you get to high street.” They were inside now and both sat their bags on the kitchen table.

“Garden-Hills? Sammy, you’re friends with a rich kid?!” Dean asked suddenly not comfortable dropping him off. He felt underdressed just walking past the place and Sam wanted him to go in and ring the doorbell of one of the fancy houses belonging to some snob that turns their nose up at kids like Dean.

“Dean, he’s not like the other people there, promise. And he said his dad’s really nice too.”

“He’s his dad! Of course he’s gonna say he’s nice. Uh-uh. No way, not happening.” Dean was walking up the stairs two at a time but Sam was keeping up.

“Please Dean. You promised!” Sam had seriously mastered that freaking pout and turned it on Dean full force at the top of the stairs. They stood there like that for a while, with Sam begging with his eyes and Dean trying to make the word “no” un-stick itself from the back of his throat.

“Fine,” Dean heard himself say, throwing his hands up and turning around. “You get Dad and Bobby to say yes and I’ll take you.” He muttered under his breath as Sam practically fell down the stairs in his rush to get outside, “spoiled brat.”

Dean walked into their room and laid down, hopping for a quick nap before he had to get ready to leave. Just as he got comfortable, a heavy, ten-year-old-boy shaped mass landed right in the middle of his gut. His eyes flew open with an “oof” and his hands raised to defend himself from the attacker.

Sam sat smiling down at him. “They said yes, I can go! Can you have me there by six?”

Dean groaned and looked at the clock. Had to leave in fifteen minutes to get there by then. So much for a nap. “Yeah go get ready.” Sam squealed, actually squealed, and jumped off Dean’s chest to do as he was told. Dean ran his hands down his face then stood to get ready as well. He made his way into the bathroom where he stood at the mirror for longer than was strictly necessary.

At fourteen, Dean looked older than most boys his age. Part of that was due to the light scruff he had shaved prematurely so that it would grow in darker and thicker next time. Part of it was height—he was already almost as tall as John. Part of it was muscles—more defined on him than class mates because Bobby liked to teach him and Sam how to fight—ya know, just in case. Most of it, however, was from the dark rings permanently etched under his eyes from staying up to take care of his brother and making sure his father didn’t drink himself dead and just general worry no fourteen-year-old should have to carry around.

Almost every Friday night, Dean used his aged looks to his advantage. He went to bars that didn’t check for ID at the door and played pool or darts with the other men there. Bobby had spent many hours teaching him to play both games perfectly in an attempt to resurrect his stolen childhood. John watched Dean play one day and when he beat Bobby fair and square, he decided Dean could start pulling his own weight. So, John took his son to a bar and taught him to hustle people. Since then, Dean has been doing as his is told—stealing from drunk people and coming home to give half the money to Bobby for rent he didn’t ask for, a fourth of it to John for teaching him the skill in the first place and he was allowed to keep whatever was left. Every once in a while, he would buy himself something, new jeans or a shirt as needed, but mostly he spent his money of making sure Sammy had everything he needed and most things he wanted.

“Ready!” Sam called from the door way. Dean looked at himself one more time. Pushing his shoulders back and running a hand through his hair to make it a little spiky in the front, he told himself he was not a kid and Sam needed him to do this. When he opened the door, Sam was bouncing on his toes wearing a different button up shirt than what he wore to school and his shaggy hair was freshly combed.

“Let’s go then, Samantha.” Dean teased. He grabbed his wallet off the table downstairs on their way out the door. It was about a forty-five-minute walk there from Bobby’s house and another thirty minutes to Irene’s after that. They didn’t talk much on the way there. Sam was lost in thought and Dean was running over his game plan for tonight in his mind. Finally, they reached Garden-Hills. Dean stopped and turned to Sam instead of walking on. “Do you know which one is his?”

Sam looked nervous, practically shaking in his too-old sneakers that were once Dean’s and hiding partly behind his brother like he did when John started yelling or when they dropped him off at a new school for the first time. “Um… Th-thirteen.” He tried not to sound so scared, really he did.

Dean turned to him fully now. “Sammy if you don’t want to go that’s fine. You can tell him Monday you weren’t allowed or something. I’ll take you home if you want me to.” Dean never teased Sam when he was scared like this; it just wouldn’t be right.

“No. No, I want to. Its just—I dunno. Don’t want him to think I’m a freak like everyone else does.” Sam answered, looking down at his shoes and twisting his fingers.

“Sam you are not a freak.”

“You tell me I am all the time.”

“Yeah but I’m your brother, man. I don’t actually mean it. You’ll be fine.” Dean made a mental note to not call Sam that particular nickname anymore.

Sam looked skeptical but finally nodded. “Yeah okay. Let’s just go.”

Dean patted his shoulder and left his hand there as they walked up the steps to number thirteen. With one more look towards Sam, he reached up and knocked on the door. Sam stepped closer to Dean’s side.

An attractive boy with messy dark hair and striking blue eyes opened the door with a big smile. “Hi,” he greeted, looking first at Dean then down to Sam. His smile grew impossible bigger as he said “You must be Sam. Gabriel hasn’t stopped talking about you coming over since he got home from school.” Then looking at Dean with his head tilted sideways and his eyes squinted not unkindly, “And you are…?”

“Dean, uh Winchester. Sam’s brother. Just, ya know, dropping him off.” Shit. Why was Dean finding it hard to talk to this guy? He was just like any other guy Dean knew. Except so much more good looking. SHIT. No. Not happening. Ever. Mentally shaking himself, Dean pulled it together enough to extend a hand and say, “You are?”

“Castiel Shurley. Gabriel’s my younger brother.” He shook Dean’s hand then called over his shoulder for Gabe. “Come on it, Sam. Dinner’s almost ready. Dean you are welcome to join us if you would like.”

“No that’s okay. Thanks but I gotta get to work.” At the word “work” Castiel tilted his head again but didn’t say anything. “What time you need me to pick him up?”

Gabe appeared behind Castiel and Sam ran inside to meet him, waving at Dean as he went. “Whenever is fine. He’s welcome to stay the night if it’s okay with his parents.”

“That’s -um- thanks but I’ll be back for him at nine. If you want rid of him before then send him walking; he knows the way.”

Castiel smiled again “Okay Dean. I’m sure we won’t want rid of him that badly though. Have a nice evening.”

“You too.” Dean said then turned and walked down the stairs and back out to the main road. What the hell just happened? He thought.

* * *

Three hours later, Dean found himself back on the door step of the Shurley house, this time with a wad of cash in his back pocket and a quite possibly broken nose (not everyone was so non-violent about being ripped off after all). This time, someone else opened the door. “Can I help you?” the bearded man asked.

“I’m here for Sam. I’m his brother?” Dean hadn’t meant to say that as a question but that’s how it came out non the less.

“Dean!” He exclaimed and opened the door wider. “I’m Gabriel and Castiel’s father, Chuck. Come on in, I’ll go get Sam. Would you like something to drink?”

Dean followed him into the front room. “Uh- no thanks. Can’t really stay long.” With a polite nod, Chuck headed down the hall. Dean looked around the room and was impressed by all the awards and trophies that indicated that a) Chuck was a best-selling author, b) Castiel was one brilliant S.O.B., and c) Gabriel was amazing at soccer. Soon, Chuck was back, with Sam and Gabe following him. “Hope he wasn’t too much trouble. Thanks for letting him come,” Dean said.

“He was no trouble at all. The boys mostly stayed in Gabriel’s room so I hardly even knew he was here! He’s welcome back anytime,” Chuck said.

“Come on Sam. Let’s go.” Dean turned to walk out, but not before watching Sam hug Gabe just a little too long.

“Bye!” Sam called before he shut the door and followed Dean down the stairs. “That was so much fun Dean! Thanks for taking me. Gabe is really awesome and his dad made us hotdogs with cheese sauce and we listened to music and played board games with his brother. He’s your age Dean and he likes the same old music you do. Maybe next time you can stay and play too!” Sam was apparently trying to make up for his lack of speech earlier in the night now. “Mr. Shurley writes books. Did you know that? He writes famous books a lot of people read. He called them ‘Supernatural’ or something like that. He’s really nice, Mr. Shurley. Gabe plays soccer. I wanna play with him this summer.” Dean grinned at his brother’s excitement.

It was dark now and the air was much colder than it had been earlier, so they walked close together with their hands shoved deep in their pockets. Dean had sort of zoned out and stopped listening to Sam’s words and instead responded vaguely to his tone. After a while, Sam’s chatter died out and he stepped even closet to Dean’s side. At first, Dean thought it was because of the cold, but when Sam put a light hand on his elbow and stopped walking, Dean actually took in their surroundings. “De,” a hushed syllable had Dean glancing down at Sam.

Now, Dean was used to walking through this part of town alone at night. He had learned to quicken his steps and keep his head down; ignore the evil going down around him. But Sam had never been here after dark, had never even imagined things like this actually happened outside of movies. Dean followed his brother’s gaze and saw the horrific scene unfolding.

There was a girl in a tank top and skirt pressed back against a brick wall in an ally. Three men stood around her keeping her trapped. When one of the men reached out to grab her, Dean grabbed Sam’s hand and pulled gently. “Let’s keep going Sam.”

Sam didn’t budge, eyes glued to the others in horror. “De, what’s happening?” His voice was hardly more than a breath.

“No! Let go of me! Get off! Leave me alone!” the girl was shouting, fighting the hands from all three men now grabbing and pulling at her clothes.

Dean pulled on Sam’s hand again. “Sam! We gotta go. Now,” he whispered urgently. The girl’s scream pierced the night when her top was torn off, but cut short when her head was smashed against the wall. Still, Sam didn’t move. “You don’t need to see this.” When Sam didn’t respond once again, Dean clamped his hand down over Sam’s eyes and pulled on his arm again. “Sammy! Close your eyes!” the urgency in Dean’s voice, combined with his actions, finally broke Sam out of the trance he seemed to be in.

Then ran until the pavement turned to gravel under their shoes. Sam’s earlier giddiness was completely gone now. They didn’t talk the rest of the way home; Sam trying to process what he’d just seen and Dean kicking himself for even taking Sam to that part of town after dark.

When they got home, Bobby attempted to talk to them both but Dean just handed him the money and followed Sam upstairs in silence. John, of course, was passed out on the couch oblivious to his children as always. Bobby brushed off the silence and started dividing the money Dean gave him—keeping very little and putting most of it aside to give back to Dean later.


	4. 1995-Boys and Girls

Dean smiled bashfully at the ground, one hand rubbing nervously at the back of his neck while a blush lightly tinted his cheeks. He was leaning against the short wall in front of the middle school, the cool spring breeze making hum pull his jacket a little tighter around him. He peaked up at eh girls he was standing with through mile-long lashes. “Um—yeah I guess that’s sorta pathetic,” Dean laughed at himself

“No, it’s cute.” She gently laid a soft hand on Dean’s bicep. When Dean looked up and finally dropped his hand back by his side, it was her turn to look shy. She also dropped her hand back down and twisted the toe of her sandal into the pavement. “I-I can show you. If you want?” She stopped twisting he foot and looked at Dean expectantly.

Dean Looked up at the school for a moment, considering. “Yeah,” he said softly then cleared his throat and looked back at her. “Yeah, okay. Show me.” She grinned and nodded. When she stepped closer, Dean’s heartrate went up. This was actually happening. Oh God, oh God, oh God. She tucked her black hair behind her ear and leaned in. Dean watched her Blue eyes shut before closing his own green ones and closing the distance. It was a short kiss, no longer than a second, just a light brush of lips against lips, before they were pulling away. This time, it was her that blushed and looked away. Dean smiled, not really sure what to think.

He bent his head to meet her eyes but didn’t say anything. Instead, he slowly brought his face closer to hers again, watching her reaction. When she didn’t pull away from him, he touched his lips to hers a second time, lingering there for a moment.

Sam burst out the front door with all the other students and instantly began to search for his brother, and there he was, under the tree as always. Except today, he wasn’t alone. There was a girl with him. And were they kissing?! “Seeya, Sammich!” Gabe called as he ran out to meet his dad.

“Yeah, later Gabe,” Sam answered absently, mind already turning with ways to make fun Dean for this. When he got to him, Dean was slightly red in the face, but smiling and waving to the raven haired girl. “Seriously dude? Do you have to make out with girls in front of my school?”

Dean jumped slightly when Sam was suddenly right beside him. “Can’t help it, Samantha. They just can’t resist my good looks and amazing charm,” Dean retorted as they started walking down the sidewalk. No way was he about to tell Sam that was his first kiss.

Sam punched him in the arm for the nickname. “More like they feel sorry for you.”

Dean snorted. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand since I got all the looks in the family. It’s okay Sammy. One day maybe a dog will like you enough to lick your face if you put peanut butter all over it first!” Dean patted Sam’s head in a would-be comforting gesture.

Sam shoved his hand away and said “You wish,” completely ignoring the dog comment. Their brotherly pestering continued like this all the way back to the apartment.

Last year, Bobby kicked them out of his house. No, actually Bobby kicked John out of his house. According to him (and the boys both privately agreed) all John did was “drink all [Bobby’s] beer and make messes.” The messes he was referring to include the visible ones of food wrappers and empty beer bottles everywhere and the less tangible ones that were swiftly becoming Sam and Dean’s lives. And so they left, under the pretense that Bobby never wanted to see John’s stupid face ever again but his boys (that is, Bobby’s boys) were welcome whenever they wanted. In fact, Bobby suggested he keep them permanently, which obviously didn’t go over well with their father for obvious reasons.

Not that they were complaining, but ever since that move, they’d seen even less of their father. With rent to pay now, John had to go out to get a real job. Dean offered to get a part time job after school, but John insisted that Dean could make more money hustling people than he would at a real job, so that’s what he does and all of it goes to his dad now to help with rent. He does, however get a small allowance that he spends on Sam whenever John is feeling generous.

“So are you gonna tell me her name or not, jerk?” Sam asked sitting down on the couch next to Dean.

“I have no idea what you’re even talking about bitch,” came the lazy response. He had his eyes closed and head leaned back against the couch, obviously hopping for a nap.

“That girl you were kissing after school today. What’s her name?”

“Paisley. Not that it should matter to you.” Dean didn’t open his eyes to answer Sam.

“Is she, like, your girlfriend or something?”

Dean sighed and pursed his lips in annoyance. “Yes, Sam. She is my girlfriend. Why the hell are you so curious about her anyways?”

Sam shrank back into the cushion a little more at his brother’s demeaning tone. “Just wonderin’” he said, which made Dean “Hmpf” and twist away from him slightly.

Just then, John walked in, with his army green duffle thrown over his shoulder. “I’m going a few states over for business this weekend. Dean there’s money for food on the table. Sam, listen to your brother. Ill see you boys next week sometime.” Both boys had gone from slouching lazily to sitting military straight when their dad entered the room. The listened to the rules for when he was gone attentively even though they already knew them by heart with “yes sir’s” thrown in where appropriate. And with that, he was gone.

Sam got up to lock the door after it had slammed shut, and when he turned back to look at the couch, he found it empty. Dean was walking back the hall to their shared room. Looked like Sam was on his own for the night. He turned on the TV and settled in for the next few lonely hours.

* * *

When Dean woke up from his nap sometime later, he found Sam sitting at the table eating cereal and reading some novel. “Nerd,” he stated, hitting the spine of the book to make it jump when he walked past. Sam looked up to glare at him then went right back to reading. Dean got himself a bowl and joined Sam. They ate in silence for a while before Sam set his book aside and looked up at his brother.

“Hey Dean, how did you know?” Sam pushed his bowl away and directed his full attention to his older brother.

“Cause I’m a genius,” was Dean’s reply even though he has no idea what Sam was even talking about. This earned him another bitch face.

“Let me finish talking jerk. I was going to say how did you know you wanted to date Paisley?” As he talked his expression shifted back to one of curiosity.

“Why do you want to know? Aw, little Sammy have a crush?” Dean’s voice raised in pitch as he talked down to Sam, making him blush. His eyes sparkled with the possibility of having new material to tease Sam with. “Is that why you’ve been so interested in my love life lately?”

“No!” Sam declared firmly, though the blush on his cheeks deepened and told Dean that was far from the truth. “I was just thinking. On TV, some boy was saying how he knew, and I just wondered if it was the same in real life,” Sam explained, no longer meeting the older boy’s eyes.

Deciding to go with it for now, Dean finally answered, “Well she’s pretty, so I started talking to her, flirting and all that crap girls love. But she’s actually kinda cool. We like the same shows and I dunno man. I guess I just like spending time with her and talking about stuff.”

“Yeah but that’s all stuff you do with friends. What makes her different?” Sam was curious for more than just general knowledge, but he wasn’t about to tell Dean why, not just yet anyways.

“She’s pretty. I wouldn’t call my friends pretty, dude.” He was going to leave it there, but the disappointment that flashed across Sam’s face convinced him to say more. “I’ve told her more about myself than I told anyone else and she didn’t run away screaming, so I guess that’s a big plus. I never get tired of talking to her. I guess there’s just something different about how I feel about her, compared to my other friends.” Dean felt weird saying it out loud, but it was for Sam; he’d do anything for Sam because that’s what big brothers are for. “That answer your questions?” he asked.

“Um yeah. Thanks,” Sam looked like he had more to say or like there was something bothering him, but for now Dean didn’t want to push. He stood up to take his and Sam’s bowls to the sink and Sam sat with his brows knitted thoughtfully at the table. “Hey, Dean?” His voice was small and hard to hear over the running water.

Dean shut off the sink and turned so he was looking at the back of his brother’s head, which was still pointed down towards the table. “Yeah?”

Sam twisted and pulled at his fingers under the table. He felt tears pool up in his hazel eyes and quickly blinked them away. “N-never mind.” He hated himself for bringing it up and for feeling like this and not being able to move to leave the room right now. And he hated himself for how his voice cracked and gave all this away to his brother, who would hate him too if he knew.

Dean walked around to the other side of the table, sitting in his vacated seat. He saw how close his brother was crying and he was faced with the familiar feeling of needing to take away whatever was hurting his brother and if at all possible kill it. “Sammy? What is it?” His voice was soft and full of worry. Sam turned his head, directing his eyes to the floor instead of the table and sniffled softly. “Talk to me, kiddo. What’s wrong?”

Sam sniffed again and brought his hand up to scrub at his nose. “I can’t tell you,” he said, voice barely audible.

“Yeah, you can. I’m your brother, Sammy. You can tell me anything.” Dean meant what he said. It was his job to watch out for Sammy, and he couldn’t do that unless the boy would talk to him.

After a minute, Sam finally looked up. His face was dry, if red, but his eyes looked like they could spill over any second now. His lip trembled as he said, “You can’t make fun of me Dean. Not for this. He shook his head to emphasize how serious he was and it was starting to scare Dean. “Okay?” He shook his head again when Dean nodded his agreement. “No Dean. I’m serious. You can’t. You have to swear you won’t.”

“Yeah Sammy, I swear.” Dean’s face was mixed between confusion and sincerity that matched his brother’s. Sam studied him for a moment before seeming to decide he was telling the truth.

Sam looked back down at the table and resumed he finger-twisting from earlier. He was quite long enough Dean was getting ready to ask again when he finally spoke. His voice was soft enough Dean had to lean in to hear what he was saying. “I don’t like girls like that.” A tear ran down his cheek and was immediately followed by another, but he made no move to wipe them away. He was trembling in his seat, sharing this with Dean. He though this had been the case for a while, but hearing his brother describe his relationship with Paisley, he’d known for sure.

Dean had heard but the words just made him more confused. Why would Sam be so upset about that? “That’s okay, buddy. You will one day— “

“No!” Sam’s voice was sharp when he cut his brother off but quickly dropped back down, only a hair louder that it was before. “No Dean. I won’t. Because I like— “ He interrupted himself with a sigh followed by a deep, shaky breath as he built up the courage for his next words. “I like Gabe.” His tears were flowing freely now.

“Oh.” Dean was still confused. He knows Sam likes Gab. They’re best friends afteral— “OH.” As the realization hit him, he leaned back in his chair and looked at his brother. Sam was sobbing softly but still made no move to comfort himself. His whole body shook and his eyes were shut tight. His skin was pale except for the bright pick blush on his cheeks. He looked exactly like he had when he got sick as a baby and Dean felt the need to check his temperature.

“Say something!” Sam sobbed. Self-hatred was rocking through his body and his brother just sat there silently. He should yell at Sam! Scream at him for having those thoughts! It was wrong. It confirmed that Sam was a freak, no matter how hard he tried to change that, deep down he was a freak and always would be. And now, Dean hated him so much that he wasn’t even yelling at him like he should be. Sam’s sobs were loud now and he covered his face with his hands so he didn’t have to see when Dean got up and left him there all alone.

“Oh, Sammy.” Dean’s heart broke at the sight of his baby brother, broken and obviously beating himself up even more. Dean stood up and walked around the table so he was standing right beside the sobbing boy. Sam jumped when Dean wrapped him up in his arms and brought his head to his chest, but he relaxed into the touch when he realized it wasn’t hurting him like he expected. Dean rubbed his hand up and down Sam’s back soothingly and Sam twisted to bury his face in Dean’s shirt, balling his fist into the fabric. “Shh, calm down. You’re gonna get sick Sammy, calm down. It’s okay. We’ll figure this out just breathe kiddo. It’s okay. I’m here, just breathe.” Dean held his brother close and spoke softly and truly into his shaggy hair.

Sam was shocked when his brother hugged him, and even more so when he heard his words. This couldn’t be right. Dean was supposed to be yelling at him and calling him disgusting. He accepted the comfort anyways and tried to calm down like he had been told to. It took a few minutes but eventually his sobs died down to hiccoughs and his shaking body stilled until only the occasional tremor was left.

Dean allowed the separation when Sam pushed lightly against his chest. “Let’s talk, okay?” he said gently and when Sam nodded, he pulled a chair around so he could keep a hand on his brother’s arm while they talked. “So,” he started carefully. “What was that meltdown for?”

Sam scoffed and smiled bitterly, rubbing harshly at his face. “Did you not just hear me? I said I like my best friend.”

“Yeah Sammy, I heard you. I’m just not seeing what the big deal is.”

“The big deal is that he’s a dude! Dean, I’m a fag! I like dudes!” Sam was shouting and it turned out pulling the chair around had been pointless because he was also pacing back and forth in front of the sink, pushing his too-long hair away from his face.

“I don’t give a damn!” Dean shouted back, standing up. Sam suddenly stopped and turned to look at his brother, shocked by the sudden outburst. “I don’t care who you like. And don’t call yourself that. It shouldn’t matter who you like, you’re still Sammy.”

“But Dad— “

“Screw Dad. He doesn’t have to know.” Sam was surprised by how willing to accept this Dean was. He didn’t really care what anyone else thought, just his brother, and if Dean was okay with it, then that’s all that matters.

Keeping his eyes on Dean, Sam slowly sat back down. When Dean followed his lead he said, “Y-you don’t hate me?”

“Of course not Sammy. I could never hate you. You’re my baby brother.” Fining only truth in Dean’s eyes, Sam nodded slowly. “Have you talked to Gabe about this?”

“No. Only you.”

“He seems like a cool kid. You should tell him. I don’t think it will really change anything if he doesn’t feel the same.”

“But what if it does? I don’t want to lose my only friend because of a stupid crush.”

“Sammy the way you were just freaking out tells me this is more than a stupid crush. Besides, I’ve seen the way you two look at each other and I bet he feels the same. I say go for it. The worst that’s gonna happen is he doesn’t feel the same and it’s a little awkward for the next week or two, no big deal.”

Sam sat and thought about it for a minute before saying, “Yeah. Okay I will.”

Dean met and mirrored Sam’s smile, glad the mood was finally beginning to lighten. “So I have to ask, what about Gabe do you like so much?” his tone was teasing, just as it would have been if Sam’s first crush was a girl.

Sam blushed again but the smile remained on his face. “I dunno. I guess it’s like you said with Paisley; he’s nice and funny and I like spending time with him and talking to him. And I don’t mind when he calls me weird names or sits too close at lunch. Like you said, it’s just different with him.” Sam was looking at the table with a sappy grin lighting up his still tear stained face and Dean was glad someone could be that for his little brother.

* * *

Later that night, Dean was laying in the twin bed closest to the door and Sam was in the other one, as usual. After Sam’s confession earlier and the following conversation, Dean kept the mood light the rest of the evening. He kept his promise and didn’t tease Sam about liking guys, but he did tease him having a crush on his best friend. He was careful though and made sure Sam wasn’t upset by anything he said. Sam was grateful that Dean was still treating him normal—teasing about normal stuff and not singling out the gay thing.

As they were lying in bed, reflecting on the day, and idea occurred to Dean and he suddenly gasped dramatically—loud enough to startle Sam, who was almost asleep. “Sammy!” he whispered excitedly.

“What?” Sam was feeding off Dean’s excitement and pushed himself up onto one elbow to look over at his brother. His voice held no resemblance of sleep.

“You and Gabe played soccer together last summer.” Mischief was shining in Dean’s eyes through the darkness.

Sam looked skeptically at Dean and said slowly, “Yeah, so….?”

“So….” Dean mocked the slowness of the word as Sam had said it. “You’ve showered with your crush!” The grin that followed lit his whole face.

Sam groaned and let himself fall back against his pillow. “Go to sleep,” he said flatly—not quite able to keep the grin and blush off his face.

“But— “

“No,” he interrupted. “Dean, close your eyes.”

Dean’s smile only grew. “That’s my line,” he complained, but he was in too good of a mood to put any real heat behind it.

Sam hummed noncommittally at his brother. “Night, De,” he said.

“G’night, Sammy.”


	5. 1996-Teddy Bears and Ferris Wheels

“I can’t believe you actually managed to talk Dad into letting borrow the car tonight!” Sam was more excited for today than he has been in ages. It’s been a year since he and Gabe finally talked about their feelings for each other and since then they’ve spent as much time as possible together. John doesn’t know they’re dating, but Dean and Gabe’s whole family do and they’re all supportive of the young boys.

“Ah, come on Sammy. You need to have faith in you big bro every once in a while. I told you I’d get it didn’t I?” If Dean was being honest, he was almost as excited as Sam was. He’d been saving up for this for a couple months now to make sure he had enough for everyone.

“So what’d you tell him we’re doing?” Sam asked out of pure curiosity.

“Said you had stuff to do at the library before school started and I found someone willing to pay a lot for me to mow their lawn.” Dean smirked, remembering how he also might’ve slipped a little extra into John’s drink so he wouldn’t think too hard about what Dean was asking.

Sam knew his father and doubted that’s all Dean had to do to get the car, but he shrugged and let it drop. It didn’t really matter how he got the car because right now they were pulling up in front of the Shurley house.

Sam had his seatbelt undone before the car was in park and out the door the second it was. Dean’s brilliant smile matched Sam’s when he followed him after turning off the car. Before they knocked on the front door, it was opened to reveal two more grinning brothers.

“Samshine!” Gabriel greeted as he stepped out and pulled Sam in for a tight hug.

“Hey, Gabe,” Sam laughed into the shorter boy’s shoulder.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel said after watching the exchange.

“Hi, Cas. You guys ready?” Dean asked and gestured to the impala. Sam and Gabe raced off and climbed in the back seat already chatting excitedly. “Well I guess they are,” Dean laughed.

Castiel chuckled in return and shut the door as he followed Dean in a much more leisurely pace down the stairs. “Gabe has been talking about this since you and Sam invited us.”

“Yeah, Sam too,” Dean said over the top of the car before both boys climbed in. The few miles that stretched between the Shurley house and their destination were filled with animated chatter as the four boys talked about their plans for the rest of the day; what they were going to do first and what they were going to eat for dinner later.

“I see it! Look we’re almost there!” Sam leaned over the seat between Dean and Cas, pointing out the windshield where the very top of the Ferris wheel could just be seen over the trees. “Gabe look!” Gabriel joined his boyfriend hanging over the back of the seat and looked where he was pointing. Dean and Cas had both leaned forward slightly too, trying to see as the energy in the car built to a new height.

Soon enough, Dean was pulling up next to an old truck in the field being used as a parking lot for the fair this week. As soon as the car was off, all four of its occupants climbed out. Dean locked the doors and pocketed the key. Trying to appear at least halfway civil, they tried to walk calmly to the front gate, but they ended up half jogging there. Dean paid the entrance for all of them and Cas bought them each a handful of tickets for rides and games.

After thanking their brothers, Sam and Gabe ran off in the direction of one of the rides. Dean and Cas smiled at their receding backs and started walking, looking at all the different things they could do today. “Thank you for inviting me, Dean,” Cas said sincerely.

“No problem. Thanks for keeping me from being their third wheel all day.” In the year Sam and Gabe have been together, Dean has almost always been stuck driving them places when he could steal the car from John, since Cas didn’t have his license yet. In that time, Dean quickly learned he could stomach having to bear witness to the young boys’ puppy love better if he had company. For a while, Paisley had gone with him, but eventually they broke up. After that, Dean started inviting Cas to tag along, since he was Gabe’s brother. Spending so much time together, Dean and Cas found out that they enjoyed many of the same things and began hanging out together at school as well.

“You know, I’ve never actually been to the fair before,” Cas said looking all around him at the people running around playing games or waiting in line for rides with lots of flashing lights. “They have it every summer, but I’ve never thought to actually come to it.”

“It’s been a while since I’ve been here. My parents used to bring me every summer, before Mom died. I haven’t been back since. I thought it would be something fun though.” Cas had turned his attention to Dean as he spoke.

“It was a great idea, Dean.” They smiled at each other and Dean spotted something over Cas’s shoulder and his face shifted to one of excitement. Cas turned to follow his gaze, but before he could find what Dean was looking at, he was being dragged through the crowd by his arm.

“Come on! I’ve always wanted to ride this!” Dean called over his shoulder as he pulled the other boy toward the Roundup.

As they were waiting in line, Dean bounced on the balls of his feet, watching the ride and getting more excited each time it went. Beside him, Cas was growing more nervous. When it was finally their turn, Cas followed Dean on and stood in the cell next to his. Looking around, he realized there were no shoulder straps like he thought there were. Eyes wide, he leaned out to look at Dean. “Dean, there are no straps, we’ll fall out!”

Dean laughed at he panicked friend. “It’s okay Cas. Just put your back against the wall. You’ll be fine, I promise.” Hesitantly, Castiel did as he was told. When the ride started, he held on tighter and squeezed his eyes shut. When it picked up speed and his feet were forced backwards, however, he realized that centripetal force would be holding him in place and laughed at his earlier worries.

When the ride was over and they stumbled out, laughing at each other’s dizziness, they ran into Sam and Gabe waiting by the exit. “Hey guys,” Dean greeted.

“The magician’s about to start and we thought you guys’d like to see him,” Sam said.

“Yeah sure,” Cas answered and the four of them went to find seats on the already crowded bleachers. Dean and Cas sat behind Sam and Gabe. They watched the show and were amazed at some of the tricks, exclaiming and pointing out the ones they really liked. When the magician made a flower appear out of nowhere, Gabe lifted his hand to point and turned around to tell his big brother. When he brought his hand up, Dean and Cas grinned while Sam blushed. The younger boys had their fingers intertwined and that had previously been hidden from their brothers by the proximity of their bodies; they were practically sitting on each other’s lap. The slightly awkward moment passes quickly as the audience around them gasped and they all turned to see they’d missed something very impressive.

After the show, they decided to walk around together for the rest of the evening. They played games and rode rides and ate all the junk food they could stomach. Towards sunset, they made their way to the barn with the show animals from kids in 4-H. They looked at all the different animals, saying their names out loud and talking jokingly to the ones that looked up. They made up stories about them or, if there were more than one in a pin together, pretended they were having conversations. In the middle of one such narrative between two pigs, staring Sam and Dean as their voices, Castiel gasped and then walked off toward to opposite end of the barn. Confused, the conversation halted and the rest of the boys followed Cas. When he stopped in front of a glass case, Gabe suddenly understood. “Ah,” he said. “Bees.” When Sam and Dean looked at him, he continued as though it was obvious. “Cassie has an unnatural obsession with the winged monsters.”

Cas turned around to face his brother with horror on his face. They are NOT monsters, Gabriel. Bees are amazing creatures, and without them, humanity could not survive.” As he spoke, his expression shifted to one of complete adoration. “Plus they make honey,” he added as an afterthought, turning back to look at the small hive.

They stood and watched the bees with Cas for almost fifteen minutes, three of the four quickly growing bored but not wanting to ruin it for the other. Dean looked at his watch. “Hey the fireworks start soon. We should ride the Ferris wheel while we watch them so we can see them better.” Dean’s suggestion was mostly for Sam. They’d talked before and Sam wanted to kiss Gabe for the first time but wanted to make it special, so Dean helped him come up with this plan. Actually, this entire day was planned around that one event.

“Yeah, that sounds like a great idea!” Sam spoke a little too loud to be casual before grabbing Gabe’s hand and heading out to get in line, Cas and Dean close behind. In no time, Sam and Gabe were climbing into one cart as Dean and Cas got in the one after.

Sam and Gabe were at the top when the first firework went off. The air was chilly now that the sun was down, and the boys were cuddled close together, hands intertwined again. They rode around in silence twice, Sam getting more and more nervous every second. His hands were sweaty and his heart was pounding so hard he was sure Gabe could hear it by the time it stopped to let people off the first time.

They were back at the top and the finale was starting. It was now or never, and Sam took a deep breath and turned his head to look at his boyfriend. “Hey Gabe?” He was surprised his voice stayed as steady as it did. When Gabe looked at him, Sam could see the fireworks reflected in his eyes and held his gaze for a moment. He gently laid his free hand on Gabe’s cheek and leaned in, pressing their lips together in a short, chaste kiss. When he pulled back, Gabe was smiling widely at him and Sam’s worried melted away. They didn’t say anything, they didn’t need to, just turned their attention back to the last fading firework and leaned their heads together.

When all four boys were reunited in the grass below the Ferris wheel a short while later, Sam and Dean had a silent conversation like they often do that told Dean the plan had worked. “So,” Dean announced clapping his hands together, “I still have a ticket left and I don’t know about you, but I’m not gonna let it go to waste!” He walked past them, patting Sam’s shoulder in congratulations as he went. Everyone else followed him over to a game two people could play together.

Sam and Gabe went first. When Sam won, Gabe groaned and pouted exaggeratedly. Sam smiled at the small show and pointed to a big teddy bear with a red bow around its neck when the guy running the game asked what he wanted. After being handed to bear, Sam immediately turned and held it out to Gabe. Gabe’s pout turned to a smile as he took the offering and pulled Sam in for a hug.

“I’d kiss you, but, ya know, that might be a little awkward, with Dean-o and Cassie watching,” Gabe whispered into Sam’s ear, leaving him blushing. Out loud, he said “Thanks, Samshine.”

“Our turn!” Dean declared. When he lost, he too pouted, much like Gabe. Sam, of course, laughed because that’s what little brothers do. Cas, thinking it was what friends do, tried to cheer him up like Sam had cheered Gabe up.

“Here, Dean.” Cas had chosen a large stuffed bumble bee with comically small wings and was holding it out to the other boy.

Dean looked at Cas and was taken aback slightly. “N-no that’s okay man. You should keep it. Thanks though.”

Cas’s head tilted slightly in confusion. “But I want you to have it.” He pushed the bee a little more insistently at Dean. The younger boys stood quietly watching the exchange, humor shining on their faces.

Dean glanced at their brothers then back at Cas. When he saw that Cas would probably be hurt if he said no again, he accepted. “Okay, if you’re sure. Thanks.” Cas beamed when his gift was accepted and Dean returned the smile, holding the bee a little awkwardly in front of him.

When Sam yawned, both Dean and Gabe decided it was probably time to go home. Together, with Dean and Gabe holding tightly to their stuffed animals, they walked through the rapidly thinning crowd to the “borrowed” impala. When they were all in and Dean had started driving toward the Shurley house, Sam spoke up. “Dean tonight was the best. Thanks for thinking of it.”

“Yeah thanks, Dean-o,” Gabe chimed in. “My favorite part was the fireworks and the Ferris Wheel.” He bumped his shoulder lightly against Sam’s, and Dean grinned knowingly.

“Yeah I really like that too,” Sam agreed.

“I’m glad you guys had fun,” Dean said with a glance in the review mirror at the couple. “My favorite part was the magician. I think he used real magic for parts of it!”

“Dean, he simply used sleight of hand and illusion. There is no such thing as real magic,” Cas corrected, causing the backseat to erupt in laughter. “I enjoyed watching the fireworks from the Ferris wheel as well, but I think watching the bees was the best part. They are truly underappreciated creatures.” Cas had no idea why the younger boys really like the Ferris wheel as much as they did, he just thought they enjoyed the view of the fireworks as much as he did.

Before long they were pulling up outside of Cas and Gabe’s house. “Here ya go! Thanks for going tonight guys it was a lot of fun,” Dean said after putting they car in park.

“Thank you for inviting us. See you later.” Cas waved as he climbed out and shut the door. When no one else made any move to follow, Dean turned around and found Gabe sitting pressed close to Sam.

“Hey Dean you should go in and talk to Mr. Shurley for a minute,” Sam suggested before Dean could say anything, words rushed slightly.

Instantly getting the hint, Dean was climbing out of the car, saying, “Yeah good idea,” before following Cas up the stairs, leaving Sam and Gabe sitting in the backseat alone.

Gabe sat and toyed with the bow around the neck of the teddy bear where it sat in his lap. “I had a great time today, Samshine.”

“I did too. Thanks for going with me.” Both of their voices were soft in the quite night. “Um, on the Ferris wheel earlier, was that okay?” Sam asked. He was still sitting close to Gabe, holding his hand, but his eyes were focused on the seat in front of him, worried about Gabe’s answer. He really liked Gabe and even though they’d been together a long time, he wanted to make sure he hadn’t messed anything up.

“It was perfect, Sammy.” Gabe looked at the side of Sam’s face until he turned to meet his eyes. “Is it okay if we do it again?” he asked. When Sam nodded, Gabe leaned in and touched their lips together. Sam reached up and tangled his free hand in Gabe’s long, blond hair.

When they pulled away, Sam left his hand where it was for a moment and spoke barely above a whisper. “I really like you a lot Gabe.” He wanted to say he loved him, but he wasn’t sure how Gabe would respond to that and he didn’t want to push his luck.

Gabe grinned like he could read Sam’s mind. He probably could, the way he always seemed to know exactly what Sam was thinking. “I’m just gonna say it,” Gabe muttered mostly to himself. “Sam I think I love you.”

Sam was shocked for a moment but quickly a smile lit his face and he said, “I think I love you too.” For some reason, they found this confession funny and for a few long seconds, they sat with their foreheads pressed together, laughter bubbling through them. After the giggling died down, leaving them both feeling lighter than before, they shared one more short kiss then climbed out of the car together.

Sam placed his hand gently on the small of Gabe’s back as they walked up the stairs. Gabe hugged his bear tight to his chest and neither boy seemed to be able to stop smiling. They stopped at the door and turned to face each other. Whatever they were going to say was interrupted by another bought of giggles which once again ended in a kiss. Finally, they opened the door and walked in.

“Hi, Mr. Shurley,” Sam said as they stepped into the living room and found Dean, Cas, and Chuck sitting and talking casually.

“Hey boys. Have a good night?” He greeted warmly.

“Sure did! Dean you ready?” Sam didn’t really want to leave Gabe, but he suddenly felt awkward talking to his boyfriend’s father.

“Yeah. Bye guys. Thanks for going with us.” Dean stood and walked toward the door.

“Be careful going home,” Mr. Shurley called.

“I will,” Dean answered.

“Bye everyone,” Sam said turning to follow his brother. “Have a good night Gabe.”

Gabriel nodded. “You too, Samshine,” he said as Sam shut the door and followed Dean to the car. Climbing into the passenger seat, Sam picked up the stuffed bee where it had been previously sat next to Dean and raised an eyebrow.

“What?” Dean whined as he started the car and pulled out, heading back home. Sam turned the bee so it was facing Dean too but didn’t say anything. “Shut up,” Dean said, grabbing the bee from his brother. He thought about tossing it in the back for a moment but laid it back down next to him instead.

Sam rolled his eyes and settled back down on the seat, still unable to keep the smile off his face. Dean glanced at his brother. “I take it our plan worked?”

Sam’s smile grew as he blushed slightly. “Yeah. Seriously thanks De. It was really perfect.” Dean was happy for his brother and said as much. Never mind Sam is only 13, three years younger than Dean was when he got his first kiss. Sam didn’t have to know about that.

* * *

Walking into their shared room after his shower, Sam noticed Dean was laying on his side, a large lump curled up under one of his arms. “What’s that?” he asked while crawling into his bed.

“Nothin’,” Dean grunted and shifted slightly, causing the blanket to slide down slightly and revealing the top of the lump in question to Sam.

A wide grin split Sam’s face. “That’s the bee Cas gave you, isn’t it Dean.”

“No. I dunno what you’re talkin’ about.”

“Yes it is. I thought you didn’t want it and here you are cuddling it. Do you like it because it’s a bee or because Cas gave it to you?” Sam was under the covers now, but sitting up looking over at his brother.

“’m not cuddling nothin’,” Dean protested weakly.

“Yes you are, I can see it.”

“Well, Sammy, close your eyes then you won’t see things that aren’t there anymore.”

Sam hummed happily as he laid down. “Dean likes Cas,” he mused softly. “Wait till I tell Gabe.”

Dean grunted and rolled over, taking the bee with him. I don’t like Cas, he promised himself. It’s just a really soft bee. He pressed his lips to the toys head under the blankets and grinned as he drifted off to sleep.


	6. 1996-Lipstick Lies

Sam’s eyes snapped open in the pitch darkness of his and Dean’s bedroom. For a moment, he was unsure of why he had awakened so suddenly, but then he heard it again—a loud banging sound in the hallway. “Dean!” he whispered urgently towards the bed across from his. When Dean didn’t answer, he sat up and repeated it louder. Once again, there was no answer. There was another thump in the hall, followed by a voice he didn’t recognize. Panic setting in, Sam stood and pulled the blankets on his brother’s bed down to find it empty. Then he heard Dean’s voice through the walls. He couldn’t make out the words he said, but his tone was calm and told Sam that whatever was going on, he had it under control.

Adrenaline fading, Sam walked over and opened the door. “De?” Sam was going to ask what was happening but the sight before him stopped him in his tracks. Time seemed to freeze as Sam stood in sweat pants and a too-big t-shirt borrowed from Dean with one hand still on the door knob and messy brown hair tickling the corners of his eyes.

A couple feet in front of him, his older brother stood with his back to the bathroom door and a look of pure horror in his green eyes. Sam’s brother, Sam’s strong, tough, fearless, perfect, big brother, Sam’s father-figure, his hero, had mascara stains running down his freckled cheeks and red lipstick smeared around his full, swollen-looking lips.

“Shit! Sammy, close your eyes!” The next thing Sam knew, his vision was obscured by Dean’s hand as he was turned and shoved back into the bedroom, the door slammed closed right after him. He tried the knob but Dean was still holding onto the other side so it wouldn’t turn. “Sam, go back to sleep okay?” Dean’s voice was rough like when he had a sore throat.

“Dean?” Sam was scared and confused by what was happening and just wanted to talk to his brother. “Let me out! What’s going on? Why are you dressed like that? Dean?!”

Sam pressed his ear to the door when he heard that unfamiliar voice again. “Everything okay sweetheart? Or did you change your mind about round two?” Sam’s mind was racing and he didn’t like what it sounded like when Dean answered.

“Everything’s fine. I’ll be right there.” Dean pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, leaning back against the door to his and Sam’s bedroom. “Sammy please,” he begged. “Just go back to bed. Everything’s fine but I really need you to go back to sleep okay?” His voice was calm and authoritative but slightly desperate. “Get my Walkman from under my pillow and listen to music and we’ll talk in the morning. Please Sammy. I need you to do this for me okay kiddo?”

Sam didn’t want to leave his brother alone when he sounded as broken as he did, but he knew his brother wouldn’t have told him to stay put unless he really needed to so he reluctantly agreed. “Okay De. But if you need something just yell okay?”

Dean huffed a small laugh. “Yeah okay Sammy.”

Sam stopped him as he heard him start to walk away. “Dean? Love you.” He didn’t know why he said it, just felt like he needed to.

Dean paused, bile rising in his throat because he knew that if Sam knew what he was doing he would have never said that. Still, he forced himself to answer. “You too. Go to sleep okay?”

“Okay.” Sam stood at the door listening to Dean’s footsteps until he heard the door to John’s room click shut. He walked back to his bed and laid down, forgetting about listening to Dean’s music like he’d been told. Curled up on his side with his back to Dean’s bed, Sam tried, and failed, to get the image of Dean out of his mind. The black skirt he was wearing hit him mid-thigh and revealed that he had shaved his legs. The white shirt he was wearing hugged his torso and highlighted his defined muscles. It was wet and see through in places and torn slightly at the collar. The thing Sam really couldn’t get out of his mind as he stared blankly into the darkness was the fact that Dean was wearing makeup and it had been smeared across his face like he’d been crying. His hear, which was messier than normal, had something white in it that Sam tried really hard not to think about.

A loud thump and low moan from his father’s room made Sam jump. As everything fell into place in his mind, Sam found he was frozen in place, unable to get Dean’s Walkman to drown out the noises no matter how much he wanted to. For what seemed like hours, Sam laid awake trying to think of anything but his brother’s muffled cries that sounded more of pain than pleasure to him with an icy sickness turning in his stomach.

Eventually, the noises stopped and Sam could hear Dean walking the guy to the front door, then closing and locking it behind him. Sam was still awake when Dean limped into their room after a shower some time later. Exhausted, Dean fell asleep easily, but Sam found little comfort in hearing his brother’s steady breathing from behind him and was unable to find sleep for several more hours.

* * *

The next morning, Sam woke up to the smell of bacon. For a moment, he smiled because John was gone for the weekend and Dean had promised him a movie marathon today. Then the events from last night came flooding back to him, along with the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. Slowly, he got out of bed and walked to the kitchen. Instead of announcing his presence, he stood and watched while Dean’s back was to him. Dean limped when he walked around the kitchen, not as bad as he’s had before but still there none the less. Other than that, he looked back to normal; baggy sweats hanging low on his hips, second-hand stretched out Led Zeppelin shirt revealing part of his right shoulder.

Turning around, Dean grinned as Sam. “Hiya Sammy! Sleep well? Breakfast’s almost ready like two more minutes probably.” He turned back around to the stove and Sam sat at the table.

He didn’t say anything as he kept watching his brother. Now that he knew Sam could see, Dean’s limp was completely gone and if Sam didn’t know any better, he’d say this was just another normal morning.

“Eat up, I believe we have a movie marathon scheduled for today, yes?” Dean said as he turned around with two plates of scrambled eggs and bacon. Try as he might, Dean couldn’t conceal the grimace as he sat gently on the hard wooden chair across from Sam. Sam finally looked away from his brother and started picking through the food in front of him, afraid to actually eat because the twisting feeling in his gut would probably just send it straight back up.

“Why aren’t you eating? You sick?” Before Sam could answer, Dean was leaning across the table, pressing his hand to Sam’s forehead feeling for a temperature.

Sam huffed and pushed Dean’s hand away. “’m fine,” he said. Dean raised an eyebrow at him but sat back down anyways and went back to eating. After another minute, Sam pushed his still full plate away and asked, “What happened last night?”

Dean looked up and asked, “You sure you’re okay? Last night we ate pizza and watched TV until you fell asleep, then I woke you up and we went to bed, remember?” his face was contorted in the concerned older brother ‘Sammy’s really sick’ face, but Sam could tell it was faked. “Food’s getting cold, Sam. Eat.”

“No, I mean after that. When I woke up later and heard you talking to someone. A-and you were wearing a skirt and makeup.” Sam’s voice lost confidence as he talked and he had to look away from Dean when he said the last part.

“Me? In a skirt? Really, Sam? That sounds like some sorta crazy dream.” Dean focused on the eggs in front of him, afraid he wouldn’t be able to keep the lie going if he looked at Sam.

“De. Please don’t lie anymore. I saw you limping this morning and you flinch every time you shift in your seat. And you still have a little lipstick on the corner of your mouth. I know it wasn’t a dream.” Sam’s voice was soft and pleading and Dean’s stomach dropped.

Grabbing a paper towel from the roll in the middle of the table, he wiped his mouth wear Sam had indicated. He stared at the red smear on the paper for a long time, waiting for his heart to restart. “I don’t know what you want me to say Sammy. I’m sorry you had to see me like that.” Dean’s voice cracked over the words as he put up his ‘soldier shields’ and worked to stop all emotion from showing. He could feel Sam’s eyes on him but he didn’t look up.

“Look I know. I saw you so please just tell me the truth. I think I deserve to know, I’m not a little kid anymore,” Sam begged.

“Yeah okay.” Dean pushed his plate away and sat up straighter, all defenses now firmly in place. He didn’t want Sam to know about this. Didn’t want him to think less of him. But he knew Sam was right. He’d caught him and he deserved to know. If Dean knew anything at all, it was that it is easier to be up front about this kind of stuff because hiding it after you were caught only made it worse. “No more lies.”

“Was he your boyfriend? You know I’m not gonna judge if he was, it’s just he sounded a lot older than you and he obviously hurt you.” Sam needed to know. Needed to protect his big brother as much as he could.

Dean hesitated and Sam watched as he struggled with the decision of keeping his word or lying. When he finally answered, Sam was shocked to be met with the same distant look Dean uses when being yelled at, or worse, by John. “No. I dunno who he was.”

Sam nodded. He’d expected as much but wanted to give Dean the benefit of the doubt. He also really wanted to tell Dean it was okay and he wasn’t going to yell at or hate him, but he knew it was too late for that; Dean wouldn’t really hear the words. He looked at the table and blinked away tears. “Why?”

Dean huffed a bitter laugh. “Needed money, Sam. Dad didn’t pay the rent this month and I didn’t have enough to pay rent and get food and I’m not about to let you go hungry or homeless when it’s my job to look out for you. So I had to get money.” His chest was felt hollow talking about this to Sam; he was still a kid he didn’t need to worry about money and shit like that. His answers were automatic and truthful because that’s the only way he could answer these questions.

“So you sold yourself.” It wasn’t a question so Dean didn’t respond. “You could’ve gotten a normal job Dean. You didn’t need to do this.” Sam had turned his previous heart ache into anger directed at his father and was trying hard to keep it in check.

“Yeah and we’d still be on the streets, cold and hungry. This was faster and now we’re covered again for a while.”

Sam sighed and rubbed his hands harshly over his face and through his hair. “I hate that you have to worry about shit like that. That’s Dad’s job! He shouldn’t make you pay rent or buy food or anything! He should do it and you should be a kid.”

The soldier in Dean instantly defended his father. “Yeah well he tries Sam! But loosing Mom fucking sucked and he deals with that in his way which means I have to deal with everything else. It’s not his fault if he could then he would do all that crap but he can’t so I help him. It’s not a big deal. Dude last night was easier than some and he paid more than most.”

Sam was shocked. “What?” his voice lost all earlier intensity and dropped to a whisper.

“What?” Dean repeated with much more heat than he’d meant.

“Y-you’ve done that before?”

When Dean realized his mistake, he stood and took his plate to scrape what was left in the garbage, not bothering to hid his limp at all. He was going to ignore the question altogether, but Sam’s earlier words echoed in his head, ‘no more lies.’ “Yeah. Have to go out every month or so and usually they just take me there on the street then throw a couple twenties at my feet and leave. Last night was the first one I brought home and he gave me almost a hundred bucks. That what you want to hear, Sammy?” Dean voice was bitter cold as he spoke. He was leaning against the counter watching his brother’s heart break at his words.

Sam was crying and when he looked up at Dean he couldn’t stop the small sob that escaped his throat. “Please stop, Dean. You are so much better than that. Please don’t do it anymore. You could get sick or hurt o-or killed! Dean I need you! You can’t die. Please stop, De.” Listening to the hurt desperation in his baby brother’s voice only proved that he was a disappointment to his brother now, just like he was to his father and, had she been alive he’s sure, his mother. He paused next to Sam on his way out of the small kitchen.

“I do it so we can live, not because I want to. And Bobby taught me how to defend myself if I need too. I’m not gonna die.”

“Please, Dean. Promise me you’ll stop. I don’t care why you do it; we’ll figure something else out. Promise you’ll stop for me please, De?” Sam’s puppy dog eyes dug deep into Dean, but Dean’s self-hatred had turned his heart to stone in that moment, and even little brother tears couldn’t break him anymore than he already was.

“You said no more lies, Sammy. I can’t make you a promise I can’t keep. I’m sorry.” And with that, Dean walked out, leaving Sam alone with his thoughts.

With his face buried in his hands, Sam tried hard to stop crying because he was too old to cry; his dad said so and if he didn’t get this under control it would be bad. The thoughts running through his mind were trying their best to keep that from happening though. ‘It’s all my fault,’ he thought. ‘Had I never been born, I wouldn’t’ve distracted Mom from driving that day and she would still be alive. Dean would still have her and Dad wouldn’t drink and Dean would be happy and wouldn’t have to sell himself. Even if I died now, Dean wouldn’t have to sell himself because he could afford to feed himself, it’s just me they can’t afford. I hate myself! It’s all my fault.'

In the next room, Dean finally let his defenses fall as he was alone and cried. He wished Sam hadn’t found out, wished he could take it all back and lie to protect him but his pride stopped him from going back in and pulling Sam in for a hug; Sam thought he was disgusting now anyways and would only shove him away if he tried that. He wanted to go for a walk but the pain between his thighs made moving hard and he wouldn’t leave Sam alone, even if Sam wanted him to go, he would stay in the house and be there to protect him from whatever he could.


	7. Birthday Surprise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry this update is so late. School has been killing me these last few weeks! I'll try to do better about posting more often but in the meantime, thanks for your patience! Hope you enjoy, let me know what you think!

A loud pounding at the door brought Sam and Dean quickly from their dreams. John’s gravelly voice followed quickly thereafter. “Boys! Time to get up! We’ve got places to be today. Five minutes then I’ll be back!” Dean groaned and buried his face in his pillow. It was too early for this crap but he knew if he wasn’t up when John came back he wouldn’t like the consequences so he sat up on the edge of the bed.

Next to him, Sam had already fallen back to sleep. “Get up. Dad’s getting the ice water,” Dean said as he threw a pillow at his brother’s sleeping form. John’s way of getting them out of bed if he had to wake them up more than once was throwing ice water on them, effectively waking them and removing the previous warm comfort provided by their beds. Sam groaned and rubbed his face in his pillow. Dean stood and stretched his arms above his head with a yawn.

Sam say up and threw the pillow back at Dean, hitting his back since he was looking through their dresser for something to wear. “Happy birthday, jerk,” he said.

“Wha’?” Dean looked over his shoulder confused.

“C’mon, you didn’t seriously forget your own birthday did you?” Sam laughed at the look Dean gave him that said he honestly had no idea. “Dean, you’re 18 today! I thought you’d at least remember this one!” Sam knew Dean never normally celebrated his birthday, but they’d been talking about this day since Sam was a toddler. When things got bad, worse than normal that is, like when John came home drunk and mad and take it out on the boys (even if Dean tried his best to take most of it), they would talk about the future. Dean told him that when he turned 18, he would take Sam away and give him the life he deserved. It had been a while, years probably, since they’d talked about it, but Sam still counted down the days and now his excitement bubbled to the surface.

Dean sighed as he turned around to face his brother, plaid shirt in hand. “Sam, I know what you’re thinking and— “

“Boys!” John’s voice loud at the door interrupted Dean, but Sam’s face had already fallen.

“We’re up! Be right there, Dad!” Dean answered. Then he dropped his voice so only Sam could hear, “We’ll talk about this later,” he said firmly, turning around to resume getting ready.

* * *

Half an hour later, all three Winchesters were piled into the impala, driving down the snow-dusted interstate. “So…” Sam popped up between John and Dean, resting his chin on the back of the seat. “Where we goin’?” John didn’t normally just take them somewhere without telling them anything about the trip.

John just smiled at the windshield, glancing quickly at his older son. “You’ll see when we get there. Are you wearing your seat belt, boy?” His voice was light, no trace of his usual anger, frustration, or depression. He knew his plan for today was a good one; it would make Dean’s birthday perfect. Yes, he knew it was his son’s birthday, but no, he hadn’t acknowledged it yet, all part of the plan.

Dean raised an eyebrow at his father’s out of character behavior, but didn’t say anything. Sam grumbled as he sat back and fastened the seat belt around himself. John settled further into the seat. “We’ll be there in about an hour,” he said. Dean leaned forward and turned up the music. He didn’t care that his dad had forgotten his birthday, it was just another day after all. He was just glad he could spend it with him while he was sober and in a good mood. Dean lived for days like this, it reminded him of when John was like this all the time, before Mary died.

The drive was a comfortable one. John sang softly along to the songs on the tapes, Dean leaned against the door and watched the world speed by, and Sam was dozing in the back, lulled by the warm air from the heater, the rumble of the car, and the deep melodies from his father’s voice.

When John finally slowed the car as he entered a town, both boys sat up. They looked around for any hint as to where they were going or what they were doing. John’s grin grew as he watched Sam and Dean’s curiosity grow out the corner of his eye. He turned on the blinker and confusion filled Dean’s face.

Sam once again leaning over the seat asked, “Dad? What are we doing here?” John didn’t answer, just parked the car and motioned for his sons to follow him. They didn’t get very far before a young man in a nice suit met them with a big smile.

“Mr. Winchester!” he said, extending his hand. “So good to see you again, sir.”

John shook his hand and smiled in return. “You too.” He then gestured to Dean. “This is the son I was telling you about. Dean.”

Dean looked between the two men confused but shook the stranger’s hand anyways.

“Michael Smith, Dean. Good to meet ya.”

“Well, let’s show the boy what we talked about, yes?” John clapped his hands together in the cold, signaling that introductions were over and it was time to get down to business.

“Indeed,” Michael said. “Follow me!” The two older men turned and walked away. Sam and Dean shared a wide-eyed, confused look before following. They walked through the rows and rows of cars, Sam looking at them all, dreaming of a future where he will be able to buy one and Dean comparing each one to the impala, telling himself over and over nothing could ever be better than her. “Here we are!” Michael said gesturing to a shiny black truck.

John looked expectantly at Dean. “So? What do you think Dean?” His smile was fading slightly at the lack of response.

“I’m sorry, What’s going on?” Dean asked.

John laughed. “I bought myself a new truck!” he said.

“Y-you traded in Baby for a truck?” John’s brow creased, partly in confusion, partly in warning about Dean’s tone. Dean shook his head and corrected his tone and clarified. “The impala.” He only ever called her ‘Baby’ in his mind. Dean already felt the loss like a punch, that car was the only thing he had left of his mother aside from his brother and a few fading photographs.

John laughed again, gaining a hurt look from both his sons. “Easy boys,” He managed. “I didn’t trade her in. Take a breath, Dean. You’re an adult now, and I figured it was time you had your own vehicle.” He pulled the keys to the impala out of his pocket and handed them to Dean. “Happy birthday, son.”

Dean stared in shock at his father, holding the keys lightly in his hand. He knew he should be thanking John, asking how they could afford the truck, anything, but he didn’t seem to be able to form the words. Beside him, Sam looked back and forth between everyone there, just as unbelieving as Dean. Finally, Dean found his voice.

“Seriously?” Never in his life did Dean think he’d one day be given the car he loved so much.

“Yep,” John said. “I know how much she means to you and I know most of your birthdays haven’t exactly been great but I figured maybe this could at least partially make up for that.”

Dean knew that had to be hard to say, his dad isn’t one for words. Even though it’s not something they do very often, Dean thought this moment called for a hug. It was a quick one but it still caught John off guard. Dean pulled back and said “It’s great Dad. Thank you. I don’t know- Dad this is more than I could’ve ever asked for.

“I know. That’s why I’m giving her to you. I’m gonna finish up a few things here, why don’t you boys take her for a spin and meet me at the diner we passed on the way here in an hour, okay?”

“Yeah, okay, see you there. Come on Sammy!” They walked back the same way they came and Dean slid into the driver’s seat exactly as he has so many times before, except now it was like he was seeing her for the first time. With a huge grin on his face, Dean lovingly stroked the leather of the steering wheel. “Hey beautiful,” he whispered, earning a raised eyebrow from his brother.

“Dean, when you’re done making love to it, we can go.” Sam’s voice pulled Dean from his trance.

“Right. Yeah. Let’s go.” Dean started to car and pulled out, still grinning. Sam rolled his eyes and shook his head. Only his brother could love a car that much.

“Hey De, I know it’s been a while, but do you remember when we used to talk about this day?” Sam asked, his voice too perky to only be reminiscent. “I would always ask how it was gonna work, the running away part.”

Dean remembered. He remembered every time they talked about it and how those empty promises would make Sam feel better, hopeful ever. He remembered feeling bad for putting that hope there when there wasn’t ever really going to be a time when the ran away together, but knowing he would say anything to stop Sam’s desperate weeping at the time. That guilt is what made him stop bringing it up years ago in the hopes Sam would forget before now. “Those were just stories, Sam. Fantasies like those books you like to read now. If I took you, I’d go to jail for kid napping. We can’t.”

“I know.” Sam’s disappointed tone disagreed with his words. “I was just thinking, all that time we spent trying to figure out the how and Dad just gave you the car! I never saw that coming.”

Dean smiled again and ran his thumb over the steering wheel again. “Me either. Best. Birthday. Ever!” Sam smiled at his brother’s joy. Turning up the radio. They continued driving until it was time for lunch with their father.

* * *

Glancing in his rearview mirror, John was pleased to see his boys pulling into the diner parking lot only seconds after him. He liked his new truck just fine, but he already missed the impala. His son loved that car though and he knew Dean would take care of her almost as well as he takes care of Sammy and John would never dream of taking her back. Dean deserved it. And the smile on his face when he stepped out told John he’d made a smart move this time.

They all walked into the small building together and were directed to ta booth towards the back. There were only three other families eating there at the time. They didn’t wait long before a young girl with long blonde hair was introducing herself as their waitress. “Hi, guys. Can I get ya’ll started with somethin’ to drink?” When she looked up from her notepad, her smile faltered slightly when she saw Dean smirking at her.

“Coke, please, um…” Dean said.

“Jo,” she supplied her name for him.

Dean’s grin grew and he said, “Dean. One coke, please Jo.”

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother, who was still eye-flirting with the obviously flustered waitress. “Water for my please,” he said.

Jo finally looked away from Dean to write down the younger boy’s order before turning to John. “I’ll have a beer,” he said. Everyone was surprised when Sam let out a frustrated groan. “Something wrong, son?” John asked with eyebrows raised, a warning in his tone.

Sam was upset enough he was willing to risk getting in an argument in front of everyone. “Of course you had to get alcohol. Today was going so good, Dad. Can’t you just go one day without it? It’s Dean’s birthday, it’s the least you could do for him!”

“Sammy, Dad’s a grown up and he can drink when he wants. It’s just one beer, you need to calm down.” Dean was worried that Sam would call John out like that in front of Jo who was frozen in place with surprise. Dean smiled at her to make everything seem okay and she started to walk away.

John gently grabbed Jo’s elbow to stop her. “My son’s right,” he said. “Make mine a coke please, Jo.”

“Sure thing,” she smiled then took the orders to the kitchen.

Sam and Dean had identical looks on their faces when John looked back at them. Their mouths were hanging open and their eyes were wide. John almost laughed until he realized why him changing his drink order was something worth more surprise than giving Dean the car had been. “You tryin’ to catch flies, boys? Sam was right. You deserve to have your father completely sober on your eighteenth birthday. Your twenty-first is a different story though,” John said.

Sam and Dean both sat up and closed their mouths, concealing this shock a little. “Thanks, Dad,” Dean said, unsure of what else could be said.

But Sam still wasn’t happy. Jo was back to take their orders and deliver their drinks before he should say anything though. John and Dean both ordered burgers and Sam got a salad. As soon as she walked away, Sam started talking, not caring who’s toes he stepped on while he was going. “So we don’t deserve a sober father every day of our lives, just the special ones?” he asked, fire in his voice.

“Sam. Don’t. You just said today had been going really good, don’t ruin it,” Dean pleaded.

“We deserve answers Dean. I want to know and I think you do too.”

John spoke up softly, “Later Sam. We can talk about this at home.” His voice had the commanding tone both boys knew meant he was serious. Problem was, Sam didn’t care.

“You always say later then later never comes. We’re talking about this now.” Everyone kept their voices low enough that no one else there was able to hear what was going on.

Dean looked cautiously at John, not wanting to be dragged into his right now, but he knew Sam was right. He sat back in his seat ready to listen to what was left of the family be torn apart. When both opposing ends looked to him for support he just dropped his eyes to the table and wished for a different life.

Sam looked back at his dad and said, “Answer the question. Are we not good enough for you sober? Do you hate us so much you have to be drunk to even be in the same room as us? Is that why— “

“No!” John cut him off. The raw pain behind Sam’s words revealed just how much he thought what he was saying was true. “No, Sam. I don’t hate you boys. You’re all I have left. I love you. Both of you. It’s just, losing your mom hurt. Worse than you can ever imagine and you two, especially you Sam, remind me of her so much. Every day I think about how she would have loved you both with all of her heart and I hate that I couldn’t save her.” John’s voice was broken and soft.

Jo walked up to the table them with everyone’s plates. Dean thanked her with a smile before she left again.

After she was gone, John spoke up again. Sam and Dean were growing up and if he was going to explain himself, he was gonna do it fully. “When I look at you, I see everything she ever wanted and never got. I can hear her telling me over and over that angels are watching over us and that you boys are her everything. I want so much for her to be here and she isn’t. And it hurts like hell so I drink because it numbs the pain for a minute. It’s worse on the weekends when you are around all the time and we should be going on family trips and playing games with her, so I leave so I don’t accidentally hurt you more than I already have. I’m sorry.”

Sam and Dean were stunned, hearing what John said. Dean felt bad for him and was willing to let it be. He understood now that John was just taking care of them all the best way he knew how and if that meant not being there then so be it. Sam, however, was mad, even more so than before.

Throwing his hands up, Sam leaned back against the seat hard. “So you just abandoned her children? You said you loved her more than anything and yet you neglect what she loved most. You walk out on us almost every weekend with not nearly enough for us to survive on because you loved her too much. Sorry Dad but none of it makes since to me. You’d think you’d try to protect what she loved, make her proud of you as a father. Instead you drink all your money and leave us to starve, which we would be the way, if your precious soldier hadn’t started s— “

“Sammy!” Dean’s voice was sharp when he cut him off. He had to fear in his eyes from the thought of what would happen if John knew he was selling himself. “That’s enough.”

Realizing what he’d almost done, Sam took a deep breath before turning back to John who was fuming at his point. “Mom wouldn’t love you anymore if she knew what’d you become.” Sam’s voice was icy cold and his eyes help pure hate as he finally started eating his meal.

John watched and listened as his youngest finally snapped, thinking of how he should try to do better for Mary but also how he hated that his son had that much disrespect for him. When it was clear Sam was done, he too started eating. After a minute of silence, he looked up at his son and said, “Dean I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for your birthday to go like this.”

Dean didn’t look up from the food he was not eating to acknowledge his father. “Can we just finish so we can go? I have homework.” It was a lie and a poor one at that but he didn’t want to talk about it anymore, so they finished the meal in silence.

* * *

When John got home that night, hours after his sons, it was clear that he had been drinking and he planned on drinking more. When he walked through the door, Dean was disappointed to say the lease, but he didn’t say anything.

Sam walked in as John was taking the top off one of the bottles. “Are you kidding me?”

“Nice to see you too, son,” was John’s dry response.

“I though you understood I didn’t wanna see you drinking tonight for Dean.” At this point, Sam wasn’t mad anymore, he was just hurt.

“Oh, you don’t wanna see it huh Sammy? Close your fucking eyes!” John was shouting now and Dean stood up, ready to jump in if he had to. He didn’t know why John was doing this, but he knew where it was quickly leading: thrown punches that hurt less than the words said. “It’s your fault, Sam. You wanna know the real reason I drink so much? You were right, it’s because I can’t stand to look at you! Had you not distracted your mother from driving that day she’d still be alive! It’s your fault Samuel. You killed her!”

Sam flinched at John’s words. “Dad enough!” Dean shouted to make sure he was heard. The three Winchesters stood looking at each other for a moment, before Sam’s tears started rolling down his face and he ran out of the room. Dean stepped closer to his father and said in a voice as calm as he could manage, “You can’t put that on Sam. It’s not his fault and you know it. Babies cry and he was a baby. It’s not his fault Mom is dead.”

John took a drink, draining half the bottle before nodding. His voice was just as quite as it had been loud a moment ago when he responded. “You’re right. It’s your fault. You were sick and ‘needed’ to be picked up from preschool. It’s your fault she was in the car in the first place. You’re the real reason she’s dead.”

Dean whipped the tear off his cheek and swallowed hard. His voice broke when he said “Fuck you, Dad.” And with that he turned and walked back to find his little brother. Alone in the kitchen, John threw his beer across the room with a shout. Frustration running through his body he punched a hole in the wall next to where the glass shattered and finally, finally, let his tear come. He hated how weak he’d become and he knew every single work his sons had said that day was true. He hated how he would never be what he knew the deserved, and he hated how he knew no matter whether he tried or not, it was too late to earn their love back.


	8. 1997-A Sleepover

Dean lounged lazily on the couch with his feet stretched out in front of him and an arm thrown across the back of the couch. He mindlessly stared at some true crime show on the TV, more entertained by his anxious little brother next to him.

All day, Sam had been running around the house, cleaning like the president was coming. He vacuumed and dusted, picked up all the trash and clutter, scrubbed the bathroom top to bottom and now there was literally nothing else for him to clean. So he sat beside Dean on the edge of the couch. His too-long legs bounced and his hands twisted together on his lap. He jumped at every sound like he was expecting something to hurt him. Wearing his best pair of hand-me-down jeans and a button-down flannel, he was just this side of too dressed up to be considered casual, at least for today.

Finally, there was a knock on the door. Sam jumped up and tripped over his own feet in his rush to answer it. He caught himself before he landed on his face though. His recent growth spurt had left him lanky and clumsy, not yet used to the added length in his limbs. Dean just shook his head and followed.

Sam opened the door and all his earlier tension faded away at the sight of his boyfriend. “Hi, Gabe,” he said, huge smile lighting up his face.

Gabe grinned in return. “Heya, Samshine.” He walked in a dropped his duffle by the door. He placed a quick kiss to Sam’s cheek as he walked past, heading for the living room.

He didn’t get but a couple of steps away before his father spoke up. “Gabriel. Remember what we talked about. Behave yourself. Yes?” Mr. Shurley’s voice was firm, a silent threat hidden in his words, even if it was very different from the kind of threats John usually handed out.

“Yes sir,” Gabriel answered seriously.

Mr. Shurley smiled at his son. “Okay then have fun have.” Turning to Dean as Sam and Gabe walked off chattering excitedly, he asked, “You’ll be here the whole night right?”

Dean too answered with a serious “yes sir.”

“What about your dad?” There was a note of apprehension in his voice that made Dean unsure what answer he was hoping to hear.

Deciding to go with the truth, Dean said, “He won’t be home until late tomorrow. I’ll probably already have dropped Gabe off before he gets home.”

“Good. Honestly, from what Sam has said when he’s over, I don’t want Gabe around him if it can be avoided. I don’t really like that the two of you have to be around him actually but that’s not my place to say. I have to go; I’m going to be late to Castiel’s debate. Thanks again for watching him, he loves his brother, but not so much his extracurriculars.”

“No problem. Have a good evening, wish Cas luck for me.”

“Will do.”

Mr. Shurley turned and left and Dean walked back inside. He found the younger boys sitting on the floor talking about how their summers had gone so far and what high school would hold for them next year. “Pizza good for dinner?” Dean asked. After Sam and Gabe agreed, Dean went and ordered two large peperoni and cheese pizzas to be delivered.

Sam sat across from the smaller boy, hanging on to every word he was saying. This wasn’t the first time Gabe had come over, but it was the first time he was spending the night and they were both very excited.

The night passed quickly. Dean stayed in the living room with them until after the pizza had been eaten, watching TV and playing card games. After though, he had retired to his room, leaving Sam and Gabe to watch more movies and eat more junk food (supplied by Gabe, of course). Gabe also brought a few of his favorite board games, most of which ended with the looser throwing game pieces at the other, laughing.

Around midnight, Sam felt Dean gently waking him up when he hadn’t even realized he’d fallen asleep. “Sam, hey kiddo. Why don’t you move to the couch? You’ll be more comfortable.”

“Whr’s Gabe?” Sam slurred, looking around the room confused.

“He’s changing his clothes; he’ll be right back.”

Sam grunted and let his brother help him move to the couch behind him. He laid down with his head propped against one arm rest and is feet sticking past the other. Dean left after throwing a blanket over Sam, who was already asleep again. A few minutes later, Sam woke up again to find Gabe situation himself on Sam’s chest. Gabe wrapped his arms around Sam’s middle and tucked his head under his chin. His legs laid between Sam’s much longer ones. Gabe nuzzled his face into Sam’s shirt before finally laying still with a happy sigh. Sam grinned sleepily and kissed the golden hair tickling his nose. Wrapping his arms loosely around the smaller boy, Sam once again drifted off.

* * *

About an hour later, Gabe woke up to the deep sound of a rumbling engine. Still half asleep, he cuddled deeper into Sam’s warmth, feeling safe and protected. When the front door opened then clicked shut, he vaguely thought it was probably Dean and by the time heavy boots made their way to the living room, he was already back to sleep.

When John walked into the living room, he noticed the TV was still on. Grumbling about teenage boys and wasted electricity, he looked over the back of the couch to find the remote. What he found instead made his skin crawl and his blood boil. He soon in shock looking down at his youngest son cuddling another boy for a few minutes.

Sam smiled in his sleep and tucked his nose into Gabe’s hair and held him closer, hands gently rubbing his back unconsciously. Seeing that put John over the edge. “What the fuck is going on here?” he boomed, grabbing the stranger by the back of his shirt and ripping him out of his son’s hold.

Sam instantly sat up and looked wide-eyed at his dad’s read face. A quite whimper brought his attention to his boyfriend, standing with John’s hand too-tight around the back of his neck. Gabe was visibly shaking, pleading with his eyes for Sam to save him.

Sam’s fear melted away to anger as he stood up to face his Father. He was taller now than he was, but John still towered over him and was much stronger than 14-year-old Sam. “Let go of him,” he demanded, trying to make his voice sound as dangerous as his father currently looked.

Instead, John tightened his grip and pushed him forward slightly, almost making him fall. “This the reason you act out all the goddamn time? Just a faggot trying to piss me off so I’ll leave and you can get a dick up your ass.” Turning Gabe to face him, John talked to him next. “Your daddy used to do that to you huh? Well you turned my son weak!” He faked compassion then turned it into a shout. He shoved Gabe away from him and Sam flinched as he hit the floor. “You turned my son into something he’s not.”

Gabe crawled backwards until his back hit the wall, John looming over him, trapping him there. Heart pounding so hard he could hear it he stammered, “N-no I-I didn’t- I don’t- I,” trying to talk his way out but he didn’t want to see what would happen to Sam if he did convince John not to hurt him.

“Dad.” Sam’s voice was low and warning. Gabe looked up and met his eyes in the same second John landed a solid blow to the side of his face, knocking him to the ground. “Gabe! No!” Sam screamed, lunging at his father’s back.

John spun around and smacked him across the face. “You’re not my son anymore,” he said. “Your mother would be so disappointed in you. Fucking faggots aren’t part of this family. You’re a monster Sam.” John’s words hut enough as they were, but they were still accompanied by sharp smacks and shoves that left Sam stumbling. He tried to fight back, defend himself, anything, but John was too strong.

In the bedroom down the hall, Dean woke up confused. He took his headphones off and only listened for a moment before he realized what was happening. “Oh shit.” He shoved the blankets off his legs as fast as he could and ran out to the living room.

Gabe was sitting curled up against the wall, begging John to stop through his tears. He had a bruise on his face but otherwise just seemed shaken up. But right now, Dean had to help Sam. “Gabriel, close your eyes,” Dean said as he rushed passed.

Sam looked over his shoulder when he heard his brother’s voice. He had blood dripping from his nose and a cut under his eye and Dean had never been so mad in his life. “Get the fuck off him,” he bellowed, ripping Sam from John’s grip. “Go to your boy,” he gently pushed Sam towards Gabe.

Dean faced his dad and the second Sam was out of the way, he did something he’d never done before: he hit his father. He put every ounce of anger he had let build up over the years of taking hit after hit, listening to drunken ramblings, and having to grow up too fast behind his fists as he directed them at any part of John he could.

Surprised, it took John a second to fight back, but as soon as he did, he was able to overpower Dean thanks to left-over strength and skill from his military training years ago. Eventually, fists turned into words and Sam and Gabe watched huddled together on the floor as John and Dean stood toe to toe screaming venom at each other.

“How dare you hit him. He’s just a kid!” Dean yelled.

“He’s old enough to have a fucking boyfriend, he’s old enough to face the consequences. You have got to stop fucking babying him,” John answered just as loudly. “You’re the one that let it happen; it’s your fault for letting him be a faggot."

“Maybe if he had a dad that actually cared about him enough to be around every now and then he wouldn’t be. If you’re gonna blame someone, blame yourself.”

“I’m here now aren’t I?”

“And yet this happened. Why are you home, Dad? Get kicked out of whatever piece of shit motel you were staying in again?” Dean took his father’s silence as a yes. “That’s what I thought.”

John was still fuming as he turned and walked away. Pausing briefly at the door, he said “I want him gone when I wake up.” He knows he meant Gabe, but the angry and slightly drunk side of him thought maybe he actually meant Sam, but he quickly pushed that thought aside. Dean needed Sam.

Dean stayed where he was, staring after his dad for a while, breathing slowly evening out. To his right, he heard muffled crying and soft shushing as Gabe hid in Sam’s chest and Sam tried to calm him down. “I wanna go home,” he sniffed.

Dean looked over at them and saw Sam sitting with his arms wrapped the smaller boy, gently petting his hair and back trying to ease his fear. “Yeah okay. Just calm down, I’ll get your stuff and Dean’ll drive you home. It’s okay. C’mon sweetheart it’s okay,” Sam soothed. Dean thought back to when he had done the same for Sam so many times before.

“I’ll get it, Sammy,” Dean offered when Sam started to move. “Stay with him.” Dean went about collecting everything that belonged to Gabe and putting it back in his bag. After a quick call to Mr. Shurley explaining what had happened and apologizing because of it, Dean helped the younger two out to the car.

Gabe calmed down significantly once they were driving away from the house. Dean spoke up, breaking the silence in the car. “Gabe, I’m really sorry you had to see that. He wasn’t supposed to be home tonight. We woulda never invited you over if I knew he was gonna be there. I’m so sorry.” Sam didn’t say anything from where he was still holding Gabe in the backseat.

“I just wanna go home,” Gabe said softly, laying his head on Sam’s shoulder.

“I know, bud. We’ll be there soon,” Dean sighed and sped up.

* * *

Back in the car heading home after dropping Gabe off, Dean turned to Sam. “You okay, dude?"

“You really think it’s bad that I’m gay? You think I’m a monster like Dad does? Do you think I should try to change?” Sam’s voice was as worn out as Gabe’s had been earlier.

“What? No, Sammy of course not. It doesn’t matter to me who you love as long as your happy and you treat them right.” Dean explained after realizing why Sam would have thought that. “What I said to Dad, I was pissed at him for hurting you. Sam I know you can’t change who you are; I wouldn’t want you to. It’s no one’s fault you like guys, it’s just part of you and that’s fine, I promise. I just said that that so Dad would back off.

Sam hummed. He believed Dean, but he also believed he was a monster like John had said. He didn’t want to disappoint his mom but he couldn’t help it. He settled back into the seat and they drove the rest of the way in silence.


	9. 1997-High School Sucks

Sam stormed out the front doors of the school and started scanning the parking lot for Dean’s car. Breathing deeply to try and control his anger, he walked over after he found it. Dean was leaning casually against the hood, a flirty grin on his face as he chatted with some brunette who was snapping her gum and twirling her hair in a way Sam figured was supposed to be cute. “Heya Sam! Have a good first day?” For some reason, Dean’s chipper mood was only adding to Sam’s bad one.

“Can we go?” he snapped. His hands were balled at his sides so his nails were digging painfully into his palms. His teeth were clenched so tight he was sure they were going to shatter. Worst of all, he felt tears building up behind his eyes. Again. He didn’t wait for Dean to answer before getting in and slamming the door shut.

Dean was completely taken aback by Sam’s behavior. Flinching as the door slammed, he turned back to the girl, Amber (or was it Amanda? He couldn’t remember), and made a quick apology for his brother and excused himself. He took a deep breath and braced himself for whatever was obviously eating at Sam and climbed in. Turning to face Sam, Dean said “What the hell was that about, man? I was close to getting laid!”

Sam sat with his arms folded across his chest and stared out the window. He didn’t bother responding to Dean, other than another “can we just go?” That wasn’t like Sam. At all. Worried and confused, but not good enough with words to know what to say, Dean started the car and pulled out of the parking lot.

The short ride back home was silent. Dean glanced at the back of Sam’s head as often as he dared as if the answer to the riddle that was his baby brother was hidden somewhere in those chestnut locks of his. Sam continued to stare out the window and try to control his breathing. His mind was racing with thoughts of what he was going to do to John when he saw him; what he was going to say. The longer he thought about it, the madder he got and by the time Dean pulled the car to a stop, Sam was shaking with pint-up rage.

Sam was inside before Dean even had the car shut off. At this point he was sure it was him Sam was pissed at. Why else would he have given him the cold shoulder all the way home? He sighed and followed Sam inside. As soon as he stepped through the door, he was met with the sound of a very distressed little brother.

“No no no no no!” Sam was chanting from the kitchen. When Dean walked in, he found Sam standing with a note clutched in a trembling fist.

“Sammy?” Dean asked hesitantly.

Sam looked up and Dean could easily see the anger and hurt radiating from him. His face was red and blotchy, twisted into what could only be described as a pained expression. Angry tears rolled down his round cheeks and dripped down to the collar of his flannel. His voice was strangely soft and steady when he spoke, hatred chilling Dean to the bone. “I’m going to kill him. How the hell could he do this to me?” He looked at Dean, pleading for answers.

“Sammy, I—“ Dean began.

“I hate him!” Sam cut him off. His voice had risen to a shout that made Dean jump. “I fucking hate him, Dean! I hope he never comes home. I never wanna see his stupid face again. It’s his goddamn fault! All of it!” Sam shoved the note in Dean’s chest as he stormed past.

“Hey wait a damn minute, Sam!” Dean grabbed his arm to stop him from leaving. “Wanna tell me what the hell is going on? What happened at school today? Who are you so pissed at?” Worry creased Dean’s brow and turned his voice soft to hopefully calm Sam a little.

Sam waited a second before answering, trying to keep from screaming more. “Gabe dumped me. Said he’d been avoiding me all summer because he didn’t wanna do it over the phone and his dad didn’t trust our dad enough to let him come over again after he went home with bruises that one time. I couldn’t go over there because apparently Gabe was scared of me after I lashed out at Dad. He called me a monster, De.” Sam was watching the floor as he explained, anger finally fading only to be replaced by sadness. “I wish he hadn’t come home that night. I wish he didn’t drink all the fucking time. I wish I wasn’t his son.”

Dean was shocked at his brother’s story, but everything made more since now. His voice was soft, filled with empathy when he tried to talk. He didn’t know what else to say so he settled with “Oh, Sammy.”

“Just-just leave it okay? I’ll be fine.” Sam’s voice was exhausted as he pulled his arm free from Dean’s grip gently. He turned and walked down the hall, closing the bedroom door behind him. Dean sank into a chair at the table and finally read the note Sam had crumpled. John had gone out of town for a few days and wasn’t sure when he’d be home. Dean rested his elbows on the table and buried his face in his hands. He wished for the billionth time that his mom was still alive. She’d know what to do.

* * *

That night, the boys were laying in their respective beds, but neither of them were asleep. The sliver of the moon that was out tonight was peeking through the gap in the curtains, providing just enough light to see the outline of the sparse furniture in the room. Sam turning on his side, facing away from Dean and sniffled softly. The reality of what had happened earlier that day began to really sink in. He was never going to get to hold Gabe’s hand again. Never get to go on dates with him again. Never call him his boyfriend again. With this realization came pain; an unbearable pressure right over his heart. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. Clutching as his chest, Sam did the only think he could: call for Dean to fix it.

He opened his mouth, but all that came out was a gut-wrenching sob. After that, he couldn’t stop.

“Sammy?” Dean sat up and looked over at the other bed.

“De! Oh, Dean it hurts so bad!” he gasped.

“What hurts? Sam talk to me.” Dean’s mind went straight to physical pain and bodily damage and he was suddenly kneeling next to Sam, checking him for injury.

“Gabe,” Sam managed. “Love him so much, De. Don’t wanna break up with him! Don’t wanna be a monster!”

Realization washed over Dean then. He quickly crawled into bed next to Sam and pulled him close like he hadn’t done in years. Sam clung to his t-shirt and muffled his sobs against his big brother’s chest. “Hurts Dean.”

“I know. I know kiddo. It’s gonna be okay though. I promise. You're not a monster. Never could be. You just need to calm down for me ‘kay bud? You’re gonna make yourself sick, Sammy. Calm down. It’s gonna be okay. Just breathe. That’s it. There ya go Sammy, close your eyes and breathe.” Dean’s voice was soothing, as was the hand gently rubbing up and down Sam’s back. The words rumbled against Sam’s ear, deep in Dean’s chest, and Sam tried to focus on them to calm down as much as he could.

Once Sam’s sobbing had subsided to much calmer breaths, Dean suck deeper into the bed, trying to get them both more comfortable to sleep without stopping the gentle touch on Sam’s back. When they were both laying down, Dean began to sing. A soft, slow melody that took him back to when he would have nightmares and run to his mom to make the scary stuff go away. It didn’t take long for his quite, slightly off-key voice to put Sam to sleep, but still he didn’t stop singing. “Hey Jude. Don’t be afraid…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry this chapter is so short, but I'm done with classes for the semester so the next few will hopefully be up a lot faster and make up for this one in length.


	10. 1997-Accidents

John was half way home when his hands started shaking with fear instead of anger. He couldn’t believe he’d actually killed the man. He didn’t mean to. Hurt him, yes, but never kill him. Like anyone would eve believe that now. John knows he needed to try and get his anger under control, hell he’d heard it often enough from his own sons, but he never did. And now he’s a murderer. They were going to take him to jail. Panic set in at that thought. He was going to jail. He couldn’t go to jail. Yeah, he was tough, he was in the military for Christ’s sake, but he couldn’t survive jail. ‘We have to leave’ was the only rational thought he could form as he accelerated once again and sped back to his boys.

Sam and Dean were lazing on the couch watching some crappy horror film on TV when John burst through the front door. They both jumped when it slammed shut behind him, looking up wide-eyed when John quickly stomped in. They watched as he started grabbing duffels and the one suit case they had out of the closet. “Pack your stuff. We’re leaving.” His voice held the commanding tone they knew not to mess with, but the particular order was strange enough that Dean didn’t even immediately jump to action.

Dean glanced at Sam confused before cautiously leaning over the back of the couch. “Dad, what’s going on? Why are we leaving?”

John straightened and looked at his son. “I-“ For the first time that Dean’s ever seen, John looked vulnerable. “I just need you to trust me on this, son. Pack whatever you need; we won’t be back. We need to go now.”

Sam really didn’t like that idea. No, school hadn’t been great this year, with Gabe avoiding him like the plague, but he had other friends and he was doing well in his classes, and he didn’t want to give that up. “Can’t Dean and I just stay at Bobby’s?”

“No. It’s safer if you go with me and you know I don’t like you mooching off of him. Please, Sam, we can fight about this later. Right now we need to go.” John was desperate and Dean could see that.

“C’mon Sammy. Let’s go pack.” No, John wasn’t the best father in the world, but dean knew that he would never put them in serious danger, at least not when he’s sober as he seemed to mostly be now. Dean stood up and grabbed two of the three duffels and started back the hall.

Sam wasn’t following though. He was still pissed at John for the whole Gabriel situation and had been giving him the silent treatment for almost a month now. He wasn’t going anywhere without an explanation and said as much.

“Sam, I fucked up okay? I made a mistake and if we don’t leave now, someone else might get hurt.” John was done after that. He grabbed the remaining bags and left to start packing what he could.

When Sam got to their room, Dean already had his bag packed and was carefully putting his cash from “work” in his backpack. It wasn’t much, but he had a feeling it would be needed, even though he could always make more, no matter where they ended up. After his stuffed bee form the fair so long ago was also packed away, he started packing Sam’s stuff. Sam huffed and sat hard on the edge of his bed, crossing his arms in a very childish gesture. “I don’t wanna go,” he complained. Dean just grunted in reply, already wearing his stoic soldier persona. “It’s not fair that dad messes up and we have to pay for it."

“Boys!” John called from the other room. “Get a move on!” By then, Dean was done packing Sam’s clothes and was working on shoving his favorite books in his backpack.

“That’s what family does, Sam. We help each other out and carry each other’s burdens.” His face is bland, hiding all emotions when he said that. He zipped up Sam’s duffel and gave the room a quick once over. “Do you want to take your bear?” he asked, holding up the only other stuffed animal either had owned past the age of five. Gabe had bought him this stuffed animal for his birthday last year to keep him company on cold nights because, according to Gabe, Sam needed something to make him feel like Gabe was close by and since Sam had won him a stuffed bear at the fair forever ago it just made since that Sam had a bear too.

Sam could argue with John for hours, about anything, but Dean? He couldn’t even fight with Dean about serious stuff. So when his brother’s tone was as final as his father’s, he quickly gave in. “N-yeah,” he sighed, changing his mind before he could even get the word out. Yeah, he was upset and that stupid bear made it hurt worse sometimes, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave it behind. Dean quickly shoved it in the backpack and closed the zipper. He handed two bags to Sam and took the other two himself and headed out to meet John at the door.

“Where’s your keys?” he asked when Dean walked in. “We can’t take the truck because they have the plates.” Dean didn’t think before fishing them out of his pocket and tossing them to his dad. John caught them easily and the three of them headed out into the night.

* * *

They’d been driving for hours. Sam dozed on and off in the back seat and Dean tried to do the same but John’s tension had him on edge. No one said anything and the radio stayed off. Every time a siren would sound, John would flinch and every time they drove past a police car, he would sink low in his seat and tug his jacket up over his mouth. Dean offered to drive for a while but John declined, saying that driving kept his mind at least somewhat occupied.

The sun had long since risen and was starting to set again when Sam couldn’t take it anymore. “I’m hungry and we’ve been driving all day and you still haven’t said where we’re going or why.” Sam knew he sounded like a petulant child but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He’d been good as long as he could and he either wanted food or answers. Right. Now. Dean didn’t even scold him which meant he was on board with Sam’s demands but was too self-righteous to actually complain himself.

John sighed and did some quick calculations in his mind as he watched the signs outside speed past. “We’ll stop for food next exit,” he decided.

Their meal was as quiet as the drive had been. They ate quickly and ordered more to go then John sent Sam and Dean out to the car as he stayed behind to pay. Or at least he said he was going to pay; he wanted to save as much cash as possible and he couldn’t risk leaving a paper trail so he actually went to the bathroom and left without giving them a cent.

Back in the car, he kept driving with no intent to stop. The further he got from Sioux Falls, though, the safer he felt and after he’d almost wreaked twice from falling asleep, Dean managed to convince him to stop for the night and get some rest.

Still a little paranoid, John sent Dean in to get them a room when he finally found a motel he deemed safe enough at a little before midnight. After the trio had moved into the room, John turned on the news. He couldn’t really pay attention, though, because his mind was turned with ways to disappear from the grid. Standing up off the bed, he grabbed his jacket and wallet. “I’m going to withdraw more cash. I’ll be back in an hour. If I’m not… I’ll be back in an hour.” And with that he was gone. Dean blinked slowly at the closed door before turning to Sam.

Neither of them had ever seen this side of their father before and quite frankly, it scared the hell outta them. More than the drunk, angry John that beats them and screams at them. More than the John that stays passed out for hours making them think he might be dead. This John is new. He’s afraid and unsure. And it left his sons feeling the same. They didn’t know why he was like this all of a sudden. Couldn’t think of anything that would happen to make him like this. Not even the death of his beloved wife had this effect on him.

Surprisingly, they didn’t have to wonder much longer. The TV that had been playing since they got there was now featuring a lady in her mid-thirties with brown curly hair and a red blouse that matched her lips reading off national news. “In a bar called Irene’s in Sioux Falls, South Dakota, a young man lost his life just over twenty-four hours ago. The police are still looking for their primary suspect by the name of John Winchester who fled the scene immediately after. They have reason to believe he is still running and ask that anyone with any information about this man calls immediately. Here is the security footage of that deadly fight.” The screen changed to a fuzzy black-and-white video of two men at a bar. The lady continued talking over it, giving more information, but Sam and Dean had tuned out what she was saying.

Mostly out of reflex to protect Sam, Dean breathed out, “Sammy, close your eyes,” but neither of them moved to hide the offending scene as they stared in shock as their father squeezed the life out of the stranger.

When the screen shifted back to the lady for another story, Dean shut off the TV. Sam looked at his brother and was first to break the heavy silence that had filled the room. “Dad’s a murderer.” HE was astonished. John Winchester was a lot of things but they never thought ‘killer’ was one of them.

“No,” Dean countered. “No. He’s not like that. They got it wrong. He would never kill a person. It wasn’t him.”

“Dean you saw it too. You can’t deny it so stop shaking your head. It makes since with how he’s been acting.” Dean was still pacing the room and shaking his head, but deep down he knew Sam was right.

“Fine,” he finally gave in. “I don’t think we should say anything about it though. Play dumb. Like I said, he’s family, we have to protect our family.”

Sam nodded dumbly. He didn’t know what he would say anyways. Soon after, both boys were pretending to sleep on opposite sides of the bed when John came back. Their eyes were closed and their breathing steady, even though their minds and heart rates were anything but. They were living with someone capable of murder; that much they knew now. But they didn’t know what they were supposed to do with that information. He was still their father, afteral.


	11. 1999-Two Years Later

When they’d first left Sioux Falls, John spent almost two weeks driving like he had that first day. When he finally felt like they’d gotten far enough away that they could live in piece, they’d settled down for a bit in the back woods of Georgia. Sam was enrolled in school, but Dean wasn’t. He never really liked school that much anyways and really what was the point of going now? He’d only have one year left and even if he did graduate he had no plans of going to college; they couldn’t afford to send both him and Sam and Sam actually wanted to go. John didn’t push the matter and they both got full-time jobs working minimum wage at a gas station.

Things were starting to look up. They had more money than ever, despite John’s continued drinking habits, and Dean hadn’t had to take drastic measures for money since they’d left. When John’s paranoia came back after about a month and a half, he quit his job, afraid someone would somehow recognize him. He still didn’t know that his sons knew what he did, but he thought everyone else around them did. When he was working, they didn’t have money to spare, but they never worried about not making rent either. With only one income and still no change in the drinking, money was beginning to become a problem again.

Dean had finally come to the conclusion that if he wanted Sam to eat the next day, he was going to have to sell himself again right as they reached the two-month mark. He sighed and went to start packing what he would need that he would then change into at a public restroom so his family wouldn’t see. Before he even made it to his room, however, John stopped him. His paranoia and anxiety had reached a new height and they had to move again.

New state. New no-named town. Same exact process. Again. And again. And again. Sam stayed in school, at best he could. Dean kept getting jobs with John.

After a year of this, John decided it would be best if he stopped working all together. He felt too exposed and if he could hide at the rented house or apartment or hotel room more often, then they could stay there longer and Sam would do better in school (even though he somehow managed straight A’s even with all the moving around). There wasn’t much Dean could do to fight this decision, so he didn’t. That didn’t mean he liked it though. Suddenly they were back to trying to live off one low paying job again, just like before. The difference this time being that now Dean was working instead of John. It wasn’t enough to support the three of them and John’s drinking, which he’s not about to give up. As much as he hates it, Dean knew what he had to do to make sure they were safe and fed.

He sneaks out almost every night. He’s grown used to being torn up and easily hides his pain now. He stays home as often as he dares, but he hates the idea of letting his brother go hungry more than he hates being some random junkie’s fuck-toy for the night, so he makes sure he has enough for food before even thinking about taking a night off.

John hangs around a lot more than he used to. He still drinks just as much, if not more, and knows it, but he does it at home now instead of at bars. Before, when he would get drunk, it was because of anger and sadness and he would turn violent, take it out on anyone close enough. Now, it’s out of fear and he doesn’t fight anymore. Now when he’s drunk, he jumps at every little noise and is constantly looking over his shoulder for either the police or the ghost of the guy he killed, both of which he is sure haunts him.

As much as he’s home, however, he can’t always stay there. He goes a little stir-crazy and has to get out. Has to get away from Dean’s big-brother type of tormenting and Sam’s constant complaining about every little thing and pestering about going back to Sioux Falls. So he goes to bars. He’s careful not to get completely drunk there, just a little buzzed, so that there’s not a repeat of what happened that night. And he’s always careful to keep his identity secret and stay as invisible as possible.

Tonight was one of those nights. It had been over a week since he’d left the apartment and two since he’d been to a bar. It was a Saturday and apparently was approaching a date that was somehow important to his youngest son which meant he’d lost track of the times he’d heard Sam beg to go home “even for just a weekend” that day alone. So he’d left. John walked to the nearest bar, ordered, and sat at a table in the far corner with his hood up for a few hours. One can only sit quietly at a bar for so long before attracting attention in the form of apprehensive looks and whispers. Still he waited until someone alerted the bar tender of his strange demeanor.

With a sigh, he finally got up and started the short walk back. After only a block, he saw a hooker walking a short distance in front of him. She was tall, almost as tall as he is, but most of that was probably due to the heels she was wearing. She leaned over to talk to someone through an open car window and John’s eyes were drawn to her ass. Round and firm and clad only in a short white skirt, it quickly reminded John of what else he hadn’t done in a while, besides go to a bar to actually get drunk. He checked he wallet to find out how much cash he had left and discovered he had enough for a little something at least. Stuffing his wallet away, he quickened his pace to catch up with her.

When she stood up, he was a little disappointed to see she had short cropped hair because that meant he couldn’t get his fingers tangled in it how he likes, but at this point his dick was too invested in the idea to let a minor thing like that stop him. The skin tight black top she was wearing showed off her tiny waist and made John’s mouth water. As he got closer, John realized her shoulders were much too broad to be a girl. He hesitated for a second, remembering the homophobia he’d had beat into him as a boy. It didn’t take long for him to decide that a blowjob’s a blowjob and his parents wouldn’t’ve approved of him being with a prostitute anyways.

Finally, he closed the space between them and placed a callused hand gently on his shoulder. with a smirk on his face, he spun him around with a sultry “Hey, Sugar.” The air around them froze and John’s stomach plummeted when the younger boy turned around. All too familiar candy-apple green eyes met his. Despite all the make-up, the smattering of freckles across his cheeks and nose left absolutely no doubt that this was in fact his eldest son selling himself on the goddamn street corner.

They stared at each other in shock for several long, quite moments, John’s hand still resting on Dean’s shoulder. Dean’s eyes were wide and his mouth slightly ajar. He knew he should be afraid of what his father was going to say or do or think, but he couldn’t seem to form a complete thought. John’s expression mirrored Dean’s and he kept trying to blame the alcohol in his system for this, what had to be a hallucination, but he really hadn’t had that much to drink.

Dean found his voice first. “D-Dad,” he said. The word seemed to pull John back to his senses and he jerked his hand away suddenly as if he’d been burned. He turned away, unable to look at Dean anymore, and made to leave. “Dad wait! I can explain. Please let me explain.” Dean cried out, following him. He was afraid. Of all the times he’d sat and imagined what it would be like if his Dad did happen to catch him, he never once thought that he would be met with silence. Suddenly he knew every bad thing people said about him and people like him were right. Now John was going to leave him standing there, go back to the apartment and take Sam and leave him there alone, truly alone. He refused to let the tears fall, but he couldn’t hide the crack in his voice. “Please.”

“Don’t want to hear it right now, boy,” John said over his shoulder, still not looking at him but no longer walking away. “We’re going home. Now. When we get there, you will explain to me and your brother why the hell you’re risking your life and your brothers by leaving him alone at night.” Without waiting for a response or even looking to see if Dean was actually following, John continued walking.

Dean did follow, not because he was told to, but because he felt lucky to be invited to follow at all. With his head down, Dean stayed a few steps behind his father, not saying a word, but frantically organizing his thoughts and reasons into an explanation John would accept.

* * *

“You, sit. Don’t move. I’ll be right back,” John ordered as soon as they walked through the door. Dean sat on the couch where John had pointed and pulled a pillow into his lap to cover most of his outfit and part of the skin otherwise left bare.

He was soon joined by John, who had the same manger etched into his face that had been there the whole way here, and a sleepy headed Sam. “Dean?” Sam asked, rubbing his eye.

“Heya Sammy.” Dean attempted to smile.

Sam sat beside him on the couch and looked him over. His confused face turned to one of disappointment and hurt. “I thought you’d stopped that,” he said in a lost puppy voice that stole the breath from Dean’s chest the same way being hit with a car might.

John saved Dean from having to respond by saying, “Wait, Sam you knew about this too?” When Sam nodded looking down at his hand folded in his lap, John closed his eyes and sighed. “I need a drink,” he said mostly to himself and turned to get one from the kitchen.

“No dammit!” Dean shouted, springing up and startling both John and Sam. “You drinking is why I have to sell myself! Don’t you see? It’s hard enough for three people to live on what I make anyways, but then you go and spend half of it on your fucking alcohol problem. It’s always been my job to ‘take care of Sammy’ but guess what Dad? I can’t do that without money! And with you spending most of it on stupid worthless shit I have to find some way to put food on the table. I’m not going to let him starve because we have a shitty Dad. Not when there something I can do the prevent it.” Sam stared in awe of his big brother for standing up to their father like that. Somehow, the skimpy clothes and smeared make-up did nothing to take away from the anger and frustration radiating from his body language.

John’s voice was harsh when he responded, angry more at himself than his son but taking it out on him nonetheless. “Why didn’t you tell me? Dean you could’ve gotten hurt or killed even. If money was really that tight you should’ve told me instead of risking your life like that. I’m your father and it’s my job to take care of that stuff, not yours.”

“Dad?” Sam said, slowly standing up. “No offence but you’re not the most reliable father. Dean has been telling you that money’s tight. A lot actually. He used to tell you all the time but you always brushed it off so he had to take it in his own hands. I’m not saying l like what he does, but you left him no choice. I’m not the only one that would’ve starved or ended up on the street. We all would’ve. And you’ve just been blind to that. Woulda let it happen without a second thought.”

“I know it’s stupid, but Sam’s right. I didn’t have a choice."

John looked back and forth between his little boys, grown up into young men now and have been for a long time, longer than they should have been, standing in front of him. He knows what they were saying was true, and he never felt more disgusted with himself than he did in that moment. “Fuck.” He ran a hand over his face and fell back into the chair behind him. “How long?” he asked, looking up at Dean. Seeing he was confused, John clarified with a vague hand gesture and said, “How long have you… you know.”

“Oh,” Dean answered. “Since I was 16, so about four years I guess.”

“Fuck,” John said again. Sam and Dean shared a look then cautiously sat on the couch facing their father. John looked at the ground for a long time, absorbing everything he had just been told. Finally, he looked up, serious gaze flicking between the two. “Boys, I’m…” he trailed off, but took a deep breath and started again. “I’ve always known that I’m a shitty father, I guess I never realized just how shitty. You’re good kids. You deserve to have better. I’m sorry. If you don’t believe me, I understand but I do love you. More than anything. And I know I don’t act like it so save your breath from telling me so but I do.” He grew quite again and turned his eyes back to the floor.

Sensing this little talk was far from over, Sam and Dean stayed put, but didn’t say anything. Suddenly, John stood up and clapped his hands together once. “Give me a few days to figure everything out, but I promise I’m going to make it better.”

“What? How?” Sam asked at the same time Dean said “Yeah, right.”

“I know I haven’t earned it, but I need you guys to trust me for a few days then I swear I’ll tell you everything. Just a few days.” After getting small nods from both, John smiled and went to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

“What do you think he’s gonna do?”

“I dunno Sammy, but I just wanna go to bed.” Sam nodded and the two walked to their room. Sam, already ready for bed, simply crawled under the covers and laid down. Dean however still needed to change and take his make-up off. Normally, he was perfectly fine with changing in front of his brother; living as they had for the last couple years made it a common occurrence. But tonight he felt shy about it. Maybe it was what he was changing out of. He thought about waiting for John, then going to the bathroom to change, but then he heard the shower start and he really just wanted to go to sleep.

“Hey, uh, Sammy? Close your eyes for a sec?” he asked. He knew Sam wouldn’t look anyways, but he felt better saying it. Sam agreed and threw and arm over his face. Dean quickly changed and scrubbed his face clean with a wipe from his hidden stash of girl stuff. He turned off the light and crawled into bed. “Okay. I’m good now.”

Sam took his arm away from his eyes and rolled onto his side. “Goodnight, Jerk,” he said.

Dean grinned into the darkness. “Night, Bitch.”

* * *

Three days later, Sam and Dean found themselves sitting on the couch looking up at their father. “There’s something I need to tell you boys,” John began, pacing nervously in front of them. Their stomachs dropped. While they hadn’t put much investment in John’s promise, they’d still been hopeful. Now, he was going to say he didn’t know how to keep that promise and life would go back to how it was before. “I made you a promise the other day, and I plan on keeping it.” Then again… “I’m going to do everything I can to make life better for you two.” Sam and Dean shared a look that made John laugh a little. “Really didn’t think I would, huh? Can’t say I blame you.”

“Anyways, I’ve been thinking of what I should do.” John sat on the edge of the chair, hands on his knees, leaning forward slightly. “What would be best for you. And I think you, we, should go back to Sioux Falls.” Excitement bubbled in their chests at hearing that, but they tried to remain reserved, because they knew it couldn’t be that easy. “Then I realized I never told you why we left in the first place, and I need to do that. You need to know how sorry I am though. For everything.” John Winchester is not a man to show weakness, and in his book, that’s all he’s been doing recently. Especially now. He’d practiced what he was going to say, wanted the words to just spill out before he could change his mind because he had to tell them. But now, sitting in front of them, it was harder than he imagined it would be.

Sensing that, Dean spoke up. “It’s okay Dad. You’re trying now and that’s what matters. And, um, we sorta already know why we left.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. Um, we saw a news report… you were in a bar fight and someone died.”

“Yeah. So I guess you also know that if I go back, I will be changed with second degree murder and likely sentenced to life in prison. At the very least. I could also be charged with a whole shit load of other crap, but I’ll be locked up for the rest of my life.”

“So in other words we’re not going back,” Sam half-pouted.

“No. Yes. Ju-just let me finish,” John said. Dean’s confession threw him off and everything else he’d planned to say was jumbled up now too. “I called Bobby and talked to him about all this for a few hours yesterday. He said you could go live with him as long as I get my life together. I don’t know if you remember Pastor Jim from when we stilled lived in Kansas, but I called him too. Long story short, tomorrow morning we’re all packing our stuff and hitting the road. Bobby will take care of you better than I can and you’ll be happier. Dean, you’ll never have to go to extremes for money again. I will be turning myself in, because I won’t be able to fix myself otherwise. Life in prison, seeing you two happy if you every decide to visit your old man would be better than life on the run, too afraid to visit you. I promised you boys your life would get better. I promised Bobby and Jim I would get better. I promised your mother I would take care of you, and I haven’t. It’s time I start actually keeping my promises, don’t you think?” he finished with a sad smile.

“Dad you don’t have to do that!” Sam said. As excited as they were about going home and having a relatively normal life again, the thought of John in prison forever was not one they liked.

“Yes I do. You kids are my life and I haven’t been acting like it. Every really. I need to do this for you and for me.”

“No you don’t. Just the fact you’re taking us home is more than enough for us. We know you love us. We love you too, Dad. I don’t want to see you go to jail.” Dean said.

“I’m doing it for me then. End of discussion. We’re leaving early tomorrow so get to bed early tonight.” And just like that, the John they were used to, stubborn, always has the final word, quick to anger, was back. He stood and walked out the door.

For a few long minutes, Sam and Dean simply sat and looked at the door where it had shut between them and their dad. Sam sighed. “So. We’re finally going home huh?”

“Looks like.”


	12. 1999-Happily Ever After . . . Winchester Style

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter contains a suicide attempt and self harm. Please read with caution.
> 
> I'm sorry it's taken so long to post this chapter but to those of you who have, thanks for sticking around! I only ask that you don't hate me too much after this!! ("A single man tear" from 10.05 plays softly in the distance...)

“Dean! Food’s ready!” Bobby called from the front porch of his house. He could see Dean’s feet poking out from under an old ‘68 Camaro they were fixing up together. Since the boys moved in with him a few months ago, life had been looking up. They seemed happier now than they had in years. Sam was back in school again, a different one than the one he went to before, too much explaining if he went back he said. Dean was working full time in Bobby’s salvage yard and putting part of his earnings away to help pay for his brother’s eventual college tuition.

“I’ll be right there!” Dean answered, sliding out from under the car. A few more days and it’ll be ready to drive again. He wiped the grease off his hands and face with a rag he’d tossed on the hood earlier and started towards the house. He was happy. Honest he was. He loved life here with Bobby. It was easier on him and it obviously made Sam happy, so that made Dean happy. But he missed John. And no matter how much time has passed or how many good things have happened, it still didn’t change what he’d done before, what had been done to him.

When Dean walked in, Sam was sitting at the table with his right foot tucked under him, shoving pizza in his mouth. Kid had grown a lot recently and he was taller than Dean now. He felt the need to point it out all the time too, but Dean always made sure Sam knew he could still kick his ass at wrestling and just about everything else. Dean ruffled his hair as he walked by, earning himself a glare. “How was school kiddo?”

“Dean!” Sam scolded, trying to lay his hair back down. “It was fine. Got an A on my history test.” Sam loved his new school and everyone there. He was easily the smartest kid in his grade and would probably get valedictorian at the end of next year from his extra time spent studying while they were on the road. He wanted to go to Stanford and study law so he’d been looking into the requirements and expectations and doing everything he can to exceed them.

“Of course you did, nerd. Wouldn’t expect anything less.” Dean grabbed a slice and sat down next to him with a fond smile after washing his hands. He was proud of his little brother and all that he’s managed to do even with all the mess that has been their life recently. “Car’s almost done,” he said to Bobby. “Maybe another couple days and she’ll be good to go.”

“Good. I have another one lined up for after. Not sure what kind yet, friend of mine called earlier and asked if we could take a look for her. You’ve pretty much done this one on your own, Son. I’m proud of you.” Dean beamed at the praise around a mouthful of cheesy goodness.

They’d gone to visit John a couple times since he’d been in jail. He said he’s doing okay and he’s starting to get used to how life works in there. He doesn’t like it by any means but still he’s getting along alright. Oddly, his relationship with his sons had never been better. He knew more about them now than he did when they lived together and told them time and again how sorry he is for everything he put them through. They’re still working on forgiving him, but watching the progress he’s made already and the space between them is making it easier for everyone. Bobby doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to forgive him but that’s another matter entirely; more of Bobby projecting his feelings towards his own father onto his friend whose actions were so similar.

It had become a habit for Bobby and the boys the eat dinner together every night in the kitchen, no matter what they were having, and catch up with each other. They all loved that time together because it was something none of them had ever had before. It made them closer and more united as a family, talking about their days and their plans for the rest of the night. Even when nothing exciting had happened, they found something to talk and laugh about. They had their fights too, sure, but nothing like the fights they’d had with John in the past. These fights were almost always “normal teenage drama” fights and never lasted more than a day.

Tonight’s topic of conversation was Sam’s future. He updated them on his plans for Stanford and what his next steps were going to be and they asked questions and offered insight where they could. They talked about Dean some too, both Bobby and Sam pushing for him to get his GED and a better job that’s not dead-end, but Dean liked working on cars and didn’t want to take a stupid test to get a stupid piece of paper that would be meaningless at a job in a junk yard. Sam just shook his head and went back to talking about law school. They’d had this conversation before and every time it was repeated, Dean just got more stubborn on the topic.

After dinner, the three worked together to wash the few dishes and moved to the living room to watch some horror film together. Bobby let them both have a little alcohol, only because they were well aware of what too much could do and nothing more than one beer a piece. Dean was almost twenty-one and had been drinking for years with his fake ID, but Bobby made him follow the same rules as Sam until he was legally allowed to drink. Dean was okay with that, mainly because he had so much respect for Bobby in the first place, but also because he only ever really had the desire to drink when the nightmares got bad.

When the movie was over, Dean nudged Sam awake and the two of them headed up to their room. Bobby had offered to clean out his study so they could each have their own room, but they’d declined, saying that it was more than enough that he’d taken them in in the first place and that they’d shared a room all their lives, it would be okay for a few more years. Sam fell back to sleep almost instantly, but Dean laid awake for what seemed like hours, tossing and turning, unable to turn his mind off, despite how tired his body was.

He sighed and looked over at Sam, sleeping peacefully as ever, then the clock between them: two in the morning. He had to figure out how to go to sleep, or else Bobby would be able to tell he wasn’t sleeping again. When they’d first got here, the nightmares and memories had been so bad, Dean hadn’t slept for a week straight. He’d eventually broke down and told Bobby about them, and just having someone else who knew seemed to help a lot and he’d been sleeping better since. But for some reason, it had been getting bad again. Maybe it was the nearness of his mom’s birthday, or the fact that he was getting to do mindlessly easy work on the car now, letting him think and remember more.

Whatever the cause, it didn’t matter, because he had to sleep. As quietly as he could, Dean climbed out of bed and went to the bathroom. He grabbed a bottle of Benadryl and took one; just enough to knock him out for a few hours. When he pulled the bottle off the shelf though, something else fell down too. It had been a while, and he’d almost forgot it was there, but now it was laying in the sink shinning up at him and when he picked it up, he studied it for a moment, considering, before placing it carefully back in its hiding spot. The unexpected reminder made the tops of his thighs itch with long healed wounds and he scratched at the faded marks distractedly as he swallowed the pill and headed back to his room.

This time, he was finally able to fall asleep. It wasn’t a peaceful sleep like Sam’s but at least it was sleep. When the first nightmare comes, Dean finds that the pill might have been a bad idea, unable to wake himself up from the horrible memory.

 

~~~John is standing over him, red faced and reeking of alcohol. He’s much larger than Dean, leaving him feel even smaller and more vulnerable than normal. He can hear Sam crying somewhere behind him, the same heart-wrenching wail only infants can manage, but he can’t see him or do anything to stop it with John standing in front of him, effectively trapping him where he is. Dean doesn’t remember doing anything wrong, in fact, he’s still wearing his pajamas so he was probably asleep, but still the anger on his father’s face has his little heart racing and he’s filled with that heavy feeling of guilt. John’s voice fills Dean’s ears then. Steady and not quite shouting, but loud and demanding all of Dean’s attention.

“It’s your fault she’s dead, you little shit. Had you been man enough to stay at that goddamn party you just had to go to she would still be alive. And your baby brother wouldn’t be out of his mind right now. It’s all your fault.” John seemed to grow bigger and louder with every word he spoke and Dean suddenly remembered when this memory was from: the night after his mom’s funeral. He knew in his heart that his dad was right. It was his fault. Even if he wasn’t entirely sure how, his dad had never been wrong before so it had to be his fault that his mom was dead, right? “Go take care of your brother. You took his mother away from him so he’s your responsibility now.” Dean stood frozen. He didn’t know how to take care of a baby. When he didn’t move, John drew back his hand, and still Dean didn’t move, never having seen this before and having no idea what to expect. ~~~

 

In his sleep, Dean shifted and tried to wake himself up. He knew how his dreams always went when they started like this. This was only the beginning and he had to put a stop to it now. Unfortunately, the stupid sleeping pill he took had other plans. The scene shifted right as John’s hand would have landed across his face.

 

~~~He was in the kitchen now, a few years older. John was nowhere to be found, but Sam was sitting at the table, holding his stomach. “De, I’m hungry,” he whined. “Please can I have something to eat? I haven’t eaten forever, De. Please, it hurts.” Dean heard himself answer before he even though the words, “I know, Sammy. I’m sorry but I don’t know what to give you. There’s nothing. Daddy said he was gonna get some stuff but he didn’t Sam. There’s nothing to eat. I’m so sorry.” He remembered this time too. It was summer and John had disappeared. It was almost three days for either of them before they could eat. It was then that Dean had decided he’d never let his brother go hungry again, no matter what it took to keep him fed.

In real life, Sam had moaned and complained the whole time John was gone, breaking his brother’s heart in the process, but now the painful moaning only lasted a minute or so before Sam started wasting away before his eyes. “De, I’m hungry. It hurts. I’m gonna die, De, save me. I’m gonna die!” Sam was getting thinner fast, becoming nothing more than a skeleton with skin before Dean could move to stop it, the whole time begging Dean for help. When, in seconds, Sam was merely a pile of bones, not an ounce of life left in him, Dean heard Sam’s young voice ringing in his ears as he sobbed at the feeling of his lifeless body in his arms, “you didn’t save me, De. You let me die. Your fault I’m dead.” ~~~

 

Again, the scene shifted.

 

~~~ “Yeah, you like that don’t you ya little slut. Love feeling my big raw cock splitting you open. Ah, fuck yeah.” Dean felt tears rolling down his face and blood dripping down his thighs as the deep voice of the big man behind him tickled his ear and made his skin crawl. It hurts so bad. The pain of being touched, filled, where he’d never been touched before hurt worse than he could’ve ever imagined and he really didn’t understand how some guys could actually like this. This was the first time he’d ever let anyone actually fuck him, and he only agreed because this man seemed honest when he’d said it wouldn’t hurt that bad and he promised to give Dean a hundred dollars for it. He lied about the first part and Dean could only hope that he actually got the money after this was over. His nails scrapped against the jagged brick he was pressed against, being torn down to the bed, made to bleed just like his behind.

He sobbed in pain and humiliation as the man continued his brutal treatment. The only thing that kept Dean from putting an end to it all was the idea of his baby brother at home, hungry and thin. If it wasn’t for Dean doing this right now, Sam would starve again. And he swore he’d never let that happen. Finally, the man finished and pulled out harshly, after pressing Dean hard against the wall while he caught his breath for a moment. Dean was shaking when he turned around and held out his hand for the money, unable to form words for the pain he was in. The man slapped a couple twenties in his palm and turned and walked away without a word. Dean stood there and stared at the cash, far less than he’d been promised, and felt the blood and stranger-come drip out of him and down his legs. With tears in his eyes, he bent and pulled up his underwear from where they were bunched around his ankles. He almost screamed when the pain intensified as he tried to walk, but managed to contain it. The walk back to the apartment was agonizing and humiliating, self-hatred intensifying, his own voice shouting at him in his head, “It your own stupid fault, dumb ass!” ~~~

 

This nightmare faded seamlessly into the next, while Dean shifted in his sleep some more, trying to make it stop, screaming in sounds that came out as nothing more than muffled grunts.

 

~~~ Hands grabbed him from behind, pulling him into the shadows. He couldn’t see faces, but he could feel hands, pulling on and ripping his clothes from his body, leaving him naked and exposed. So many hands, pulling and twisting and moving him how they wanted. Doing whatever they wanted to him, and he was powerless to stop it. He wanted it all to stop. He was tired and it hurt and he hated it. He hated himself for letting it happen. He sobbed and begged for them to stop, but his voice was lost in a sea of laughter; the hands thought he was funny for him to be begging for mercy, they didn’t know the meaning of the word. They touched him all over, made it hurt, hit him, smacked him, called him names, “bitch, slut, good for nothing whore, useless, pathetic.” He tried to tell them he wasn’t those things. That he was good and he was only doing it because he had to. Then he realized that the voices that he was hearing was his own. And his father’s. And Sam’s. And even Mary’s. And he realized they were right. Everything they said was right. He gave up. Stopped fighting the hands. Let himself fall unconscious. Embraced the pain. Heard himself say, right as the last of the light faded from his eyes, “All my fault.” ~~~

 

Dean sat up with a gasp. He could still feel the hands on his body. Could still feel the weight of everything he’d let happen. He couldn’t breathe and was starting to see spots when he realized he was having a panic attack. He tried to control his breathing and calm down as he walked as quickly as he could to the bathroom so he didn’t wake up Sam.

When he got there, he flipped on the light and shut and locked the door. His irregular breathing turned into sobs as the images and thoughts from his nightmare-memories still rang in his ears. It had been a few months since he’d had this level of attack, and the only way he knew how to stop the phantom pain of past mistakes was to cause real, new pain. He dropped his pants, revealing the white scars on the tops of his thighs, the only place he could hide them from prying eyes, and reached for the blade in the hiding spot where he’d just put it back hours before. His hands were shaking as he pulled the dismantled razor through his skin the first time. With the sharp burst of pain should have come a sharp burst of reality, but his world remained foggy, the voices of his family reminding him over and over its all his fault.

Again, he pulled the blade through his skin, and again, and again, but still nothing changed. His panic was growing; it should have stopped. He should be able to breath normal again now. He pushed harder and watched as more and more blood gathered on his legs and dripped down the sides. He pushed his pants completely off so they wouldn’t get stained and sat in the tub to make clean up easier later. He moved on the new, unmarked skin and tried again to make the old pain be replaced by new but still nothing.

Frustrated and scared, he pressed his head back against the cold tile wall behind him and sobbed though gritted teeth. He just wanted it all to stop. He wanted it all to just go away. His hands were still shaking when he looked back down at his lap. The skin that he usually cut was nothing more than ribbons, completely shredded, and they went further down than they normally did. They’d found their way onto his lower stomach too. Hiding all this was going to be a bitch, but at the moment he just didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything but making the pain go away.

Tears blurred his vision, but the voices of his family and past suddenly seemed to agree on something else, other than the fact that it’s all Dean’s fault. They knew how to make the pain stop. He thought about Sam and what he would think, when he found him, but then the Sam in Dean’s head reminded him that Sam didn’t need Dean anymore. He has Bobby now and if it wasn’t for Dean, Sam wouldn’t’ve gone through all that he did anyways.

“I’m sorry,” he sobbed softly as he lowered his head to look at his arm as he once again raised the blade. “I’m so sorry, Sammy. I tried. I tried so hard for you. You deserve more than a broken big brother. I’m sorry.” It hurt more, dragging the blade through the skin on his wrist, than he thought it would. With it came the burst of clarity that he’d been craving, a bright light in his ever-diming world. But it only lasted a second. And he needed more. So he did it again. And again. His movements were slow and deep; purposeful. Follow the veins, you idiot, the John in his head told him. God, so stupid you can’t even kill yourself right. Dean looked closer at his arm then and saw the logic behind that. If he followed the vein, traced it with the edge of the blade, it would be over quicker, the clarity would last longer, and the pain would stop sooner. He thought for a moment more, before pressing the very edge of the blade into the skin about half way up his arm, right into the bright blue vein, feeling a settling calmness finally find its home in the shaky pit of his stomach.

He didn’t get the chance to begin the slow drag down before there was a knock at the bathroom door. “De, you in there?” Sam’s sleepy voice called out. “I gotta pee dude let me in.” The door knob jiggled where Sam was trying to open it. Dean’s concentration and calmness had broken, and with it some of the resolve he’d just had. Hearing Sam’s voice, the real Sam, not the one that says bad things in his dreams, snapped him out of whatever haze he was in and he looked down as his body, as if seeing it for the first time, and realized what he almost did. His tears came back in full force at the sight of all the blood he was sitting in but he tried to keep them quiet. He’d been here before, not quite this bad but still. He knew how to clean up so they wouldn’t know.

“Sammy go downstairs. I’m busy.” He called back. Dean hopped his voice didn’t give him away but even he could hear just how weak and broken he sounded.

Of course, Sam noticed too. Nerdy little brother always picking up on everything. “Dean are you crying? What’s wrong? What are you doing? Dean? Let me in!” He sounded worried and he started pulling on the door handle harder, like he could open it by sheer will alone.

“It’s fine, Sam. Go back to bed. I’ll be there in a bit.” Dean begged, his voice giving away just how not-fine he actually was. The tugging on the door stopped for a minute and Sam was quite. Dean slowly tried to stand up to get something to stop the bleeding, but the amount of blood he’d already lost was making him dizzy and he had to sit back down, still naked and soaked in his own blood from self-inflicted wounds when the door suddenly sprang open.

Sam stood in the doorway, shocked at the sight in front of him for only half a beat before racing to his brother’s side. “No, Sammy, leave me be, I can handle this. Sammy close your eyes you don’t need to see this,” Dean slurred.

“No Dean. I’m not going anywhere. I’m not going to close my eyes this time and pretend it’s not real when it is. Dean it’s so real and I’m not going to let you suffer alone. God, what the hell did you do?” Sam’s voice broke as he really looked at what had happened. “Dean were you trying to kill yourself?” his voice was whisper soft and tears gathered in his eyes.

Dean was taken aback by Sam’s unwillingness to just do as Dean says like he normally does, and the sight of Sam so scared and hurt looking, like Dean had been slicing Sam up instead of himself, was worse than he could’ve imagined and he found himself nodding. “I’m sorry Sam. It’s all my fault, everything. I just wanted it to be over. No more pain. God, I’m sorry Sammy.” He was crying loud now and Sam was crying too.

Downstairs, Bobby woke suddenly to the loud commotion going on above him. It only took him a second to realize he was hearing his boys’ crying. Quickly as he could, he was off the couch and up the stairs. He followed the sounds and stopped at the bathroom door to see something he could have never imagined. Kneeling on the floor and sitting in a red bath were two scared little boys, in bodies too big for their souls. Once they realized he was standing there, they both started talking at once, panicked and desperate for help.

“I’m so sorry…”

“Dean's gonna kill himself…”

“All my fault…”

“Not his fault…”

“Just hurts so bad…"

“Uncle Bobby make it stop!”

Bobby stepped forward to better see the damage and was completely taken by surprise at the sight of Dean’s skin and the then layer of blood resting on the bathtub floor. Instantly, his medical training from the military kicked in and he grabbed his first aid kit and set about cleaning the wounds and stopping the bleeding.

Half an hour later, Dean was covered in ace-bandages and dressed in loose, warm clothes, with his bigger than life little brother curled up under his arm while the three of them sat in the semi-dark bedroom and talked about everything that had just happened. Dean explained his dreams and why he felt the need to hurt himself. Sam reassured him that he was most certainly not to blame and that he would be missed terribly by his little brother if he was gone. It didn’t matter how old they got, Sam would always need his big brother. Bobby listened carefully to everything they both said and threw in his two cents as well, agreeing with Sam whole heartedly. That night, there were a lot of tears, but even more love. They talked until they ran out of words, making Dean feel loved and accepted and forgiven. When they fell asleep as the sun woke up, Bobby was half sitting in Sam’s bed looking over at his boys where they laid in Dean’s bed, clinging to each other for a comfort they hadn’t felt in ages.

* * *

Two years later and they’d all been doing a lot better. Sam and Dean both went to therapy for a while, Dean still goes every now and then, and he hadn’t thought about killing himself or even cutting himself in a very long time. Every time he did think about it, all he had to do was look at the scars left over from that night and remember his brother’s face and the urge was completely gone. He’d finally given in and gotten his GED and was currently working at the hospital in Sioux Falls. Okay so not currently. Currently, he was in California with Bobby and Sam, moving the boy into his new dorm at Stanford.

Sam was so excited to start school and Dean realized that he would probably never understand his brother and the way his mind works sometimes. What kind of weirdo is excited for school to start anyways? He was going to miss the little bitch like crazy all semester, but he was proud of him and couldn’t wait to see him on billboards as the world’s best lawyer in a few short years.

“That’s the last box,” Bobby said as he set down yet another cardboard box on Sam’s desk. “You sure you didn’t want to pack the kitchen sink too, kid?” Sam laughed at that and walked over to wrap his arms around his surrogate father’s neck.

“Nah, Bobby. Thought I should at least leave you and Dean something back at home. Thanks again for everything.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Son. This is what family’s for.” Bobby smiled when he pushed Sam back and looked at him from arm’s length for a moment. Dean’s eyes started to tear up where he was watching from the foot of Sam’s roommate’s bed.

“Okay enough of this chick-flick crap. Com’eer bitch.” Dean spun Sam around and pulled him down into a tight hug. “Be good, Samuel. But not too good. I expect to hear some wild stories when you get home, not just that you’ve been studying in this room all semester, ya hear? You sure you don’t need help finishing unpacking?” he looked around at the stacks of boxes and wondered just how they’d managed to get it all stuffed in the Impala and Bobby’s truck.

“Yeah I hear ya Jerk, and yeah I’m sure. Y’all have a long drive back.” Sam said with a small smile. Honestly, he wasn’t sure how much longer he was going to be able to hold back his own tears if they stayed much longer. “Go. Call me when you get home.”

With more hugs and teasing all around, Dean and Bobby finally walked out and left Sam alone with his thoughts and boxes. A few minutes later, he heard the distinct sound of the impala start and walked over to the window, watching as the two drove off until he couldn’t see them anymore.

Turning back to his room, he sighed and started unpacking. This was the first time he wouldn’t be sleeping in the same room as Dean, let alone living over a thousand miles away from him. He was nervous about that part of it, but Dean said he could call him every night if he needed to and he would probably be completely overrun by homework in a few days anyways so there wouldn’t be enough time to think about how much he misses home.

A few hours later, he was almost finished unpacking, just hanging up the last few shirts in the measly box they’d called a closet, when the door opened and a short blond dude backed into the room holding two boxes and dragging a suitcase. There was something oddly familiar about him, but Sam couldn’t quite place why he felt that way, so he stared on as the man kept his back turned to him and started placing his carefully piled items on the unclaimed desk and bed.

Still without turning around, he started talking. “You must be my new roomie. Nice to meet me the pleasure is yours.” Cocky son of a bitch, Sam thought. The feeling of familiarity was getting stronger but he still couldn’t seem to place the stranger.

Realization hit a second later, when he turned around but still didn’t look up at Sam. “The name’s…” he started to say.

“Gabe,” Sam breathed, finding his voice and almost dropping the hangers he had hooked around he fingers. For the first time in years, honey eyes met hazel, and the air around them hung still and heavy.

“Samshine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Should I write a sequel about Sam's college adventures with his roommate? Leave a comment and let me know what you think.


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